


The Enemy's Daughter

by CeridwenofWales



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Bondage, Childbirth, Consent Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Oral Sex, Revenge, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, Vikings, because it's an arranged marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 16:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11604123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: King Aelle was defeated by Ragnar's sons and his daughter, Princess Blaeja, stayed behind to protect her people. How much will Blaeja sacrifice to save her people from more carnage? Ivar is conflicted. He is dazzled and challenged by her endurance.





	1. An Intriguing Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaizyDoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaizyDoe/gifts).



> As I mentioned, I miss writing Blaeja. But I don’t feel like writing Sigurd at the moment. So I had the idea of Blaeja and Ivar instead. My twin @daizydoe wants Blaeja back as well, and even allowed me to write her with Ivar. I suppose she embraced the darkness too. 
> 
> Anyway, this is meant to be short fic in an alternative universe in which Ivar is the one to marry Blaeja. Don't worry! I still love Sigurd and I'll be back to The Saxon Rose and The Ouroboros soon.
> 
> Notice that in this story Ivar is not affected by Osteogenesis Imperfecta for I'm going with the theory his cruelty inspired his cruelty and great warfare skills, with his nickname meaning "The hated" or "The baneless" trying to communicate he was never defeated.

 

* * *

 

   

Her father lost a battle that could have been prevented. If he had listened to her. If he had made an allegiance. If…if… The time to weep and to think about what could have been was over. They were coming. The devils from the North as some priests said. She doubted they were devils. Devils wouldn’t bleed and die like king Ragnar did. Like her father did.

 

She heard about the terrible torture king Aella suffered. They had a complicated relationship, but she would never desire this humiliation and pain for him or anyone else. To protect her younger brother, she sent him away. A place not even she was aware of. They could torture and kill her. But the future of Northumbria was safe somewhere. One day her brother would be a man, leading armies to claim his inheritance.

 

That day would wait. Now she had a duty. To be a shield between her people and the invaders. She wouldn’t run. If they wanted to rape, kill or enslave her, she would ask for God’s help to endure her fate. The only thing she wanted to avoid was more suffering for her people. They were not to blame for their king’s actions and defeat.

 

She heard horses and harsh foreign language outside. Breathing as a free woman for the last time, she walked to the gates giving the command. Blaeja watched the gates opening as she was silently praying they would agree with her and take her people under their protection.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They won. He never doubted they would. Now they were going to claim the spoils. He couldn’t wait to see what Northumbria had to offer. He was craving a battle as well. But he was disappointed when the gates opened and a woman started walking to meet them. She was dressed simply, but Ivar could see she was not a peasant or a servant. She was walking with the posture of a Queen, even though she was not wearing a crown. It made Ivar furious. How dare she walk to them as if they were the guests and she was the mistress?

 

They owned everything. Revenge was theirs, but it didn’t taste as sweet as he supposed it would. Revenge would not give their father back. In fact, it made him more bloodthirsty.

 

One of Aella’s nobles was with them as a hostage.

 

“Who is she?” Ubbe raised his voice.

 

“Aella’s daughter, Princess Blaeja of Northumbria,” the man said with a voice of admiration that made Ivar think this man could have had or wanted some intimacy with the Princess.

 

 _Bad for him, she is one of our spoils. To do with as we please. We can torture and kill her for fun, make her a thrall, a bed slave, a concubine,_ Ivar thought with a smirk.

 

“Good evening. I’m Princess Blaeja of Northumbria and I presume you must be tired of the journey from York. A feast has been prepared," Her voice was sweet and gentle.

 

Hvitserk laughed, “We appreciate your reception, Princess Blaeja. We are starving. I’m sure everything you prepared must be delicious,” Hvitserk said with a husky voice and finished with a wink.

 

 _She is blushing. This Blaeja must be a silly girl to blush at Hvitserk’s flirting._ Ivar was scanning her from head to toe. His breath coming in shallow, ragged waves.

 

Even though she was trying to look brave, Ivar could see her hands were shaking a little. He smiled.

 

 _Good. She knows what we are capable of._ The thought was satisfying.

 

Blaeja was looking at Ubbe, Sigurd and Hvitserk. She didn’t notice him. It was getting on his nerves. _A silly girl indeed. Not to recognize the presence of the wisest of Ragnar’s sons, the one that was responsible for their victory. She would see._

 

“How will we know you don’t want to poison us?” Ivar asked at last.

 

Blaeja was startled with the offensive question. She glanced at him finally and Ivar grinned with another victory. Her dark eyes were fixed on his face as her pouty lips were slightly opened. Ivar thought she looked like a doe facing its death.

 

“IVAR!” Sigurd said angrily.

 

Blaeja smiled at him as Ivar’s fury started boiling with Sigurd’s silliness and her smile.

 

_How can she smile at us, after everything we did? How can she walk and talk to us like we are expected guests and not her father’s murderer?_

 

Her chest rose and fell with the regular rhythm of her breathing and attracted Ivar’s eyes.

 

“He is right to doubt me. But I can assure you that we receive and respect our guests with the same honor I know your people are used to do,"

 

Ivar tilted his head licking his lips.

 

“So? Are you going to enjoy the warm welcome of a feast?” Blaeja asked with all the bravery she could gather, fighting to keep her voice calm.

 

“Of course, we will enjoy your kindness, Princess Blaeja,” Ubbe smiled at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were feasting and Blaeja wanted to make sure everything was going perfectly.

 

Ivar could feel the servants were frightened of him and his brothers. Their most trusted warriors were eating at a table above. Laughter and talk filling the hall.

 

Blaeja was sitting between Sigurd and Ubbe. Ivar wanted to analyze her, but with Hvitserk leaning forward to eat, it was impossible. He wanted to be beside her. To look at the daughter of his father’s murderer. To read her every move and guess her intentions.

 

“So, Princess Blaeja…” Ivar said in a loud and sarcastic voice to attract her attention from her conversation with Ubbe, “what do you want from us? Because I don’t believe your kindness is gratuitous!” He wanted to laugh at her scared expression.

 

“Ivar you’re being horrible. Why can’t we enjoy a nice company and food? With you, it is always about war and blood," Ubbe hissed.

 

Blaeja was blinking her dark eyes, “I think your brother is not totally wrong, prince Ubbe. But I mean no harm. My only intention is for us not to be enemies anymore. My father was defeated. It’s over," she said looking at Ivar with flushed cheeks.

 

“Why do you think it’s over? You were wrong to stay, you should have run when you had the chance," he threatened Blaeja.

 

“No harm will befall the Princess. We are honorable men. We avenged our father, we want to settle here and you won’t be unprotected. You’re a Princess, you will be treated with the respect due to one," Ubbe stated making Blaeja smile.

 

 _Why is she smiling at him?”_ Ivar wondered how gorgeous she would look with tears running down her face.

 

“If she is a Princess, where is her jewelry?” Ivar laughed.

 

Blaeja looked down for a moment, trying to gather the courage not to stutter under his scrutiny, “When my father was away, the people needed supplies. As you know, a war is more than a bloody battlefield. The people get sick, they starve because they can’t work the fields. So, I sold my jewelry. Anyway, it’s not a crown that makes you royalty,” Blaeja looked at Ivar with her jaw trembling.

 

Ivar’s nostrils flaring as he was gazing her, “A good leader to give up of some comfort then. Well, if you want your people to be protected, I think you have to sacrifice more than a golden crown,"

 

“What do you want from me, Prince Ivar?” She held her chin up in defiance.

 

Hearing her asking him about what he wanted from her was making blood rush to his crotch. Ivar was furious that this woman had this effect on him, “If you don’t want my wrath upon your people, you will take my wrath upon yourself. Marry me!” Ivar said more like a command than a proposal.

 

“Why she should marry you? Since we arrived, you’ve been treating her badly,” Sigurd said.

 

“I might be interested in marrying a Princess too,” Hvitserk said with a wink.

 

Blaeja was holding Ivar’s gaze.

 

“I’m the eldest, I’m the leader of the army. We won because of me. If she is smart, she will recognize she has no choice," Ivar was breathing heavily waiting for her answer.

 

“I had a choice, a coward’s one. To run. But I won’t abandon my people. All I ask is that you take them under your protection. I’m not afraid. I accept the marriage," Blaeja said at once.

 

“Good. It seems you know better than I thought you were capable of," Ivar darted out his tongue and licked his lower lip.

 

“You know you don’t have to marry him," Ubbe said taking her hands.

 

“Don’t worry, Prince Ubbe!” Blaeja smiled.

 

“I suggest you release my future wife’s hands. And give me the rightful seat, beside her," Ivar glared at Ubbe.


	2. Truce?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja must swallow her fears and pride to find a solution for a problem with Ivar's help. Ivar tries to use some surprising skills to get under Blaeja's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape was treated much differently in the Middle Ages. The violation was seen as more of a trespass on the property of the fathers or husbands of the victims rather than the women themselves. So compensation paid to the men, especially if it made the woman more marriageable, was often the requirement. Depending on the time and place, there were sometimes severe penalties on the books, including mutilation or even death, but they were rarely imposed; fines were the preferred punishment. Sometimes women married their attackers as if it was believed the woman was taken advantage of, but might not actually object to being honorably married to the man in question. Or there were times that the woman was “abducted” (as in the myth of Persephone and Hades), which might only be a euphemism for when a couple ran away together against the wishes of their families. It was assumed that the woman’s virtue was in check in such a situation, so the only way to repair it was through marriage. 
> 
> In some cases rape was only considered a crime if it happened to a virgin; her loss of virginity meaning that she was less desirable for marriage, and was seen as a trespass to her father. More cases of “attempted rape” were brought to court than actual rape, probably because if a woman admitted she’d been raped, she would be announcing that she was no longer a virgin, and could not easily marry. So no doubt a large percentage of rapes went unreported or prosecuted.
> 
> Widows were sometimes blamed for the rape; as if they had enticed the men because they were experienced. And the medieval belief was that if a woman got pregnant, it couldn’t be rape because she had to have “enjoyed it” (had an orgasm). They believed that both the man and the woman had to have orgasms for a woman to conceive. Chastity was viewed as the most important element of female honor. By 1230, the rape of a virgin was considered a felony in the civil law courts and punishable by death or blinding. Also, if a man saved a woman from a rapist he was granted the choice to marry her, or to approve of her match to another – regardless of her choice in the matter. Because a daughter's virginity was her greatest treasure and a financial asset for her father in the business of marriage brokering, these fathers saw rape as the most heinous crime and did everything they could to protect their daughters. This inherent value in a virgin's purity probably accounts for the large amount of documents written up for nobles which all center around the practice of "heir and heiress snatching". One imagines that a ransom for such a one-of-a-kind treasure must have made the rape of a virgin body (or, in this case, abduction with the threat of rape) very tempting. Within marriage, however, the protection of the female body became virtually nonexistent. In Roman law, it was clearly stated that a wife could certainly be raped. She did not change her physical status upon marriage, so she did not lose any of her legal right to protection against her husband. Quite opposite to this was the Christian view, in which the bonds of marriage that united the husband and wife delegitimized the female body. The body of the wife was no longer her own possession as she had given full rights to both her sexuality and her physical form to her husband during the marriage ceremony. The abduction of a fiancée was likewise not classified as rape.
> 
>  **That's why Blaeja has all reasons to fear Ivar will be violent with her.**  
>  More informations on the matter [here](http://www.medievalists.net/files/11020201.pdf)
> 
> An exception to this exclusion was the violence against women during Viking raids. Women were routinely carried off as booty to be sold as slaves. An example is Melkorka from Laxdæla saga. Daughter of an Irish king, she was taken captive when she was 15 years old. Purchased by Höskuldur in Norway, she became the mother of Ólafur Höskuldsson (Olaf the Peacock). The medieval law book Grágás (K112) sets the purchase price for a concubine, a bondwoman used as a bedfellow. While not directly discussed, the stories imply that rape of women took place as part of the typical violence of a battle or raid. On the other hand, contemporary histories (such as the Annals of St-Bertin) suggest that Vikings were much less likely to commit rape during their raids than other European raiders of that time, such as the Carolingians.  
> [The Role of Women in Viking Society](http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/society/text/women.htm)  
> [DNA reveals warriors brought their women when raiding British Isles](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2865229/Raping-pillaging-Viking-conquests-like-romantic-breaks-DNA-reveals-warriors-brought-women-raiding-British-Isles.html) more [here](https://tranceform.wordpress.com/2011/03/29/womens-rights-in-the-viking-age-a-brief-guide/)

 

* * *

 

 

 

I am walking to the room where my father used to hold council. Not anymore. The echoes of his laughter, or curses, will not fill the room anymore. I must endure foreign and hoarse voices instead. Now I must ask for a private audience with him. The most feared of Ragnar’s sons and my future husband. I have been doing my best to avoid him and enjoy my last days as the Princess of Northumbria, for soon this title will be just an old memory, something buried deep as shame. I can see his eyes following me wherever I go as I am preparing my own sacrifice that many will see as a festivity. Let them have some happiness.

 

Today it is different because I must go to him, and the thought of being alone with Ivar makes my knees weak. I am conflicted because my instincts tell me to run and save myself from the pain I know he is preparing for me. But I have a duty. I cannot avoid him forever on the day of our wedding coming as a wolf chasing me. It is like I can feel its hot breath against my neck and it makes my skin tingle. I hope he has some decency to grant me this wish in a gesture of goodwill. I chuckle surprised with my own silliness. If not for goodwill, he will listen to me because he is cunning.

 

The warriors guarding the door look at me from head to toe as if I am not supposed to be here. I hold my breath swallowing my fear. I will not be terrified in my own home. I square my shoulders and stare back with my chin held high, “I want to talk to…” How should I address Ivar? I decide to use his name as I do not have time to pleasantries, “Ivar.”

 

They look at each other granting me passage. I nod to them as I step inside.

 

They do not notice me. Ivar’s fingers are running over a map as the eyes of his brothers follow his moves. His tongue is peeking out of his lips while his eyes are narrowed in concentration. I wonder how a man famous for his brutality can almost caress a map. He is beautiful but not like his brothers. One can be fooled by the softness of his features or the honey in his voice, but I know better. The beast attacks sooner or later.

 

I clear my throat to attract their attention, “I am sorry to interrupt…”

 

“What are you doing here? Spying on us?” Ivar lifts his head and his icy blue eyes are freezing me.

 

“I… I would not dare. I just need to talk to you…” his smirk makes my breathing erratic and I wonder if they can hear my heart hammering against my ribs. I hope they do not.

 

“Talk?” his rich laughter fills the room and I can see his brothers are embarrassed. I just do not know why “There are many things I want to do to you…” His jaw is clenching and his hands curl into fists that look capable to break a skull, “To talk is not one of them.”

 

His words hit me, and I lower my head as blood rush to my cheeks. My lips are trembling, and I press them together not to give away how his actions affect me.

 

“That is not how you should treat your betrothed, brother.” Ubbe whispers and I feel the pity in his voice.

 

“She is a princess, Ivar,” Hvitserk adds making Ivar chuckle.

 

I lift my head looking straight into Ivar’s eyes, “If you are done with the wise remarks, I would like to talk to you in private.” He tilts his head smiling at me as if he is both proud and challenged by my resistance.

 

“My woman wants to talk to me without curious eyes, brothers. Leave us.” Ivar bites his lips and I feel the mischief in his eyes.

 

“She is not your woman yet, Ivar,” Sigurd shouts making Ivar’s smile convert into a grimace.

 

“Neither yours. I suppose it hurts that she decided for herself that she will be mine.” I see Ivar wrinkling his nose as if he is a beast baring its teeth to attack.

 

“Enough.” This time Bjorn speaks out loud, “We do not have time for these childish provocations. Talk to the Princess so we can get back to our plan.” Bjorn passes by me bowing his head lightly and followed by Hvitserk, Ubbe, and Sigurd. The youngest gives me a gentle smile. I return the gesture as my gaze follows them until the door is closed. Ivar’s raspy voice startles me.

 

“What do you want… Princess?” I can sense the irony in his words and I wonder why he is so aggressive. I did nothing to him.

 

I watch Ivar drinking mead with his foot resting on the table. The brute doesn't even offer me a seat.

 

“I... some problems were brought to my attention.” I am shy to reveal the information at once as I walk closer to him.

 

“Problems?” Ivar raises an eyebrow.

 

“Yes. Some villages were raided,” I avert my eyes murmuring, “and women were raped.” I look up at him when he does not reply with an embarrassing remark right away. I am afraid he ordered the massacre or even engaged. I feel my stomach twisting, a mix of anger and disgust at the possibility of Ivar forcing himself on an unwilling woman. I do not know why I would expect something different from him, but I feel relieved when his jaw drops for a second. He knows nothing about the matter.

 

“If it is your intention to make Northumbria your home, these crimes must stop,” I advise him in the hope he will not be like my father and dismiss my warning.

 

“Are you ordering or threatening me?” Ivar rises to his feet and I blink in surprise at how fast his tall figure is in front of me. He takes a strand of my hair bringing it to his nose as he leans forward. I can feel the heat coming from him and his warm breath as it washes over my face. Even though his gesture is soft, the danger is present, and I must react.

 

I breath through my mouth gathering courage to keep my voice steady, “None of those options. I'm advising you, as your future wife. If you don't want to sleep in your bed with your eyes open, it would be better than the people don't feel pushed to rebellion.”

 

“Are you concerned about my peace of mind and my sleep? How adorable…” Ivar giggles as he straightens up still holding my hair in his fingers.

 

“I'm talking as someone who will share this bed…” It is difficult to look at his eyes as he is so tall and even if he did not want, he is still an imposing man.

 

“I see someone eager to warm my bed.” He tucks my hair behind my ear caressing the sensitive skin. “You know that if I wanted to pull up your skirts and bend you over that table to fill you, no one would say a thing, right?” he sniffs along my neckline and I gasp in surprise. I do not have to look at him to know he is smiling victoriously. I want to push him away, but I convince myself that I will not do this and risk angering him. I need him. No, I need him to understand and attend my request.

 

“I know. No one would defy you… openly. But this would be the root of your downfall.” It amazes me how my head is already spinning, and Ivar is not even touching me. I know he is manipulating me, but I need to play his game.

 

“Threats again?” Ivar’s nose is touching my cheek and I can feel his eyes burning into me. I keep looking forward as the pressure in my chest increases because I have been holding my breath.

 

“What kind of woman would I be to threat my future husband?” I breathe out and Ivar is facing me once more. His glare makes me feel a throbbing in places I did not know it was possible.

 

I see Ivar is breathing through his mouth as if he has been training. I wonder why he is reacting this way. Is it possible that he is affected by me? I push this vanity aside for I came here with a purpose, “I can see you did not know about these attacks. The people must trust you, they must see you are in control and that they have no reason to rebel against you.”

 

“Do you like when I am in control?” I want to slap the smug and arrogant smile off his face.

 

“It is not about what I like, it is about our people. Your warriors cannot walk around as if we were still in war. They must learn how to coexist.” I press my lips together afraid that I might have trespassed a line.

 

“I will punish them!” Ivar promises me, and I can smile at him for the first time because I feel like he will keep his word.

 

“But still…” I am embarrassed to demand more of him and lose the little I have conquered due to his volatile temper. He rolls his eyes gesticulating with his hand in the air for me to talk, “It is important to punish them, but we must think about some compensation for those women. Their virtue was…” I bite my tongue not to say stolen for, even though it was what happened, I know the Norsemen are easily offended and I cannot risk losing my chance to help my people, “They lost their virtue. It will be difficult for them to find a suitable husband…” My mouth is dry thinking about my destiny with the man standing before me. Suitable or not, he will be my husband. I think my fate is not so different from those women.

 

“What is your suggestion?” I am surprised by his question. I never thought he would ask for my guidance. It makes me have hope our marriage will not be so terrible.

 

“I do not know how it is in your home…” I remember Northumbria is his home now, I stutter trying to correct my mistake, “I mean… I-I do not know how you deal with these matters in your homeland. But if a man rapes a virgin he can be killed or mutilated.” I know those penalties are almost never applied, but I want to scare him. To show we do not take lightly those offenses.

 

“I believe you are not hoping I will do this to my men.” I see his jaw trembling and I feel fury building up inside of me as Ivar talks about the well being of those monsters. He is not different. I can only imagine how many women suffered because of him.

 

“I do not. Yet, those women are your subjects now. Even if their fathers are dead, the offense was against you as they are under your protection. They are not slaves.” I dig my fingernails into my palms until it hurts. I want to scream on his face, but this will not do any good.

 

“Back home those crimes are not common. When it happens, the man might be banished and anyone that passes by him can kill him without consequences.” Ivar crosses his arms in front of his chest.

 

“I suppose you do not want to do this either and dismantle your army. We must find a middle ground. As those women will hardly find a husband to provide for them, I suggest that your men pay a compensation that can make them more desirable if someone wants to marry them or for their subsistence.” It is like the world stops while I am waiting for his decision. I send a silent prayer that God will soften his heart.

 

“I suppose it will teach them a lesson. But I have heard that is common that the woman marries the man who attacked her.” I sigh defeated. Of course, he is not ignorant, but I would never think he spent his time studying our laws. The thought of the victims marrying their aggressors is something that makes me sick and I would never suggest this. One thing was a young couple in love running from their families to be together, but a woman being forced for the rest of her life by a man that came to her life through violence was unbearable. And yet, something not so strange to me. Ivar came to my life by violence and I am a Princess with a duty. I cannot get carried away by fantasies about lovers running away to be together. I lost count of the minutes as I am deep in thought until Ivar clears his throat.

 

“I do not have all day to look at you. What do you have to say?” Ivar hisses.

 

“How can I force those women to marry their violators?” I feel my jaw trembling and I bite my lip not to cry in front of him because I know he is planning the same thing to me. I will not show how terrified I am. I will endure.

 

“It is not you who insists that our people must coexist? I am suggesting something that respects the laws you have here. I am offering those women a chance to stay under protection…” his tone is low, and I see his fists shaking on the sides of his body.

 

“But… those men hurt them…” I hold on my skirts not to show how my hands are trembling.

 

“My men will understand those women are free and to disrespect a free woman is dishonorable. They are free to ask for a compensation in gold too.” My mouth opens slightly absorbing his words. Is it possible he will treaty me with the same respect? How can someone so easily put a price on a woman's pain? It seems our shame is negotiable. I wonder how much I will have to hide in my heart until it gets too heavy.

 

“That sounds good. I don't think many women will admit what happened out of shame. But I am grateful.” I hide my fear and smile at him as I am sure it will be required of me many times in our shared life to come. He dismisses me and when I reach the door I hear him shouting, “And they will give the things they stole back. I will not tolerate insubordination and it applies to you.” I look at him from over my shoulder and the usual grimace is back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wider social implications of crime from the ninth century onwards are reflected in an increasing number of fines to the king for offences such as rape. It is striking that the fine of the 60s stipulated in Alfred 25 for raping a ceorl’s slave is twelve times the compensation of 5s payable to her owner. Alfred 11 sets out a scale of compensation for assaults on a free woman, ranging from 5s for seizing her by the breast to 60s for rape, but again these sums would be dwarfed by fines of 60s and 120s respectively. The fine for removing a nun from a nunnery is also 120s, divided between the king and the ecclesiastical authorities.
> 
> There are indications that all three groups of women had at least some degree of legal competence. The widow was fully accountable in law for her own actions, even to the extent of forfeiting her possessions if she had been married by force within the prescribed year unless she was prepared to leave her new husband (II Cnut 73a.2). Æbt 74 may indicate that an unmarried girl had to pay compensation for her own misconduct, but is so cryptically expressed that several alternative interpretations have been proposed. Alfred 18 states more explicitly that a betrothed woman is to pay compensation if she fails to remain chaste. Conversely, the phrase hire gebete (‘compensate her’) in Alfred 11 suggests that compensation for a sexual attack was paid to the victim herself. The same clause shows that an unmarried woman was able to defend herself on oath from false accusations. Compensation for rape is reduced by half if the victim was not a virgin (11.3), but she is allowed to refute such a claim by bringing oath-helpers (11.4).  
> [Women and law in the Anglo-Saxon period](http://www.earlyenglishlaws.ac.uk/reference/essays/women-and-law/)
> 
> Vikings weren't an entire culture of casual rape. In fact, Viking rape laws were far more progressive than their so-called "civilized" European counterparts. On the continent, women were considered property and so rape was a property crime -- there was no "victim," but the father or husband, whose property had been damaged. While Icelandic law punished both rape and attempted rape with outlawry, which was basically the death penalty. Rapists weren't executed outright, but it was totally legal to kill outlaws with impunity. 
> 
> [5 Shockingly Progressive Ideas From 'Primitive' Cultures](http://www.cracked.com/article_20474_5-shockingly-progressive-ideas-from-primitive-cultures.html)
> 
> [...] in Guðmundar saga dýra where Guðmundr takes captive a man and his wife, and plans for both the woman and the man to be raped as a means of sexual humiliation [...] 
> 
> [Homosexuality in Viking Scandinavia](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/gayvik.shtml)
> 
> Male prejudice was highly apparent in rape cases. The writings of misogynistic monks portraying women as stereotypical temptresses and latter-day Eves could twist opinions into expressing the view that some women deserved to be raped; the accused frequently resorted to the effective defence of besmirching the moral character of his victim. Rape, as an offence against the king's peace, was a serious crime, but one with an extraordinarily high acquittal rate. Questions of proof of consent, the lack of witnesses, and the reluctance of an all-male jury to pass a death sentence all conspired to mitigate punitive legislation.
> 
> [Violence and Law in Medieval England](http://www.historytoday.com/sean-mcglynn/violence-and-law-medieval-england)
> 
> Bracton explained that while the rape of all women" was prohibited, the penalty would vary according to the circumstances of the case, including the "type" of woman involved. He outlined the law in these terms: Punishment of this kind [mutilation] does not follow in the case of every woman, though she is forcibly ravished, but some other severe punishment does follow, according as she is married or a widow living a respectable life, a nun or a matron, a recognized concubine or a prostitute plying her trade without discrimination of person, all of whom the king must protect for the preservation of his peace, though a like punishment will not be imposed for each. 
> 
> [Historical Development of Rape](http://www.canadiancriminallaw.com/articles/articles%20pdf/Historical_Development_of_the_Offence_of_Rape.pdf)
> 
> While still available to them, women used the rape laws to push their agendas and concerns onto the court – revenge, choice of marriage, justice. In court records, the heavy burden of proof and the high rate of dismissals support this conclusion. Women persevered through the inherent disadvantages presented by a patriarchal system and achieved a measure of control over their lives. 
> 
>  'Let Her Be Taken': Sexual Violence in Medieval England


	3. Truce? (Ivar's perspective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar's thoughts on the case of rape Blaeja brought to him in the last chapter.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As much as Ivar loved battles, the most exhausting part was the planning. Studying the landscape, trying to predict how the enemy would organize its army, thinking about provisions and dealing with his brothers disagreeing with him was not what people would think as glorious, but necessary to achieve victory. Ivar could not wait for the battle cries that would prove if they were superior and better prepared than the opposite side. The adrenaline running through his veins and proving he was alive was addictive. He was getting bored by all the talk with his brothers when a shy and sweet voice surprised him. A distraction. A very welcome one even if he would never admit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It is so amusing threatening her, especially when she tries to pretend she is not scared. These doe eyes are more beautiful when they show the turmoil inside of her.

 

Hearing she needs to talk to me send blood to places I can put to the use I want at the moment. Maybe she is willing to offer herself to me before the marriage, what a delicious gift it would be. I wonder if her cheeks will be this flushed when I am pounding into her. Her shocked expression when I imply the things I intend to do to her makes my prick throb inside my trousers and it makes me furious. I am not an inexperienced boy to get aroused so easily. I curl my hands into fists as I am anxious to dismiss my brothers and have her all for myself. I imagine my hands exploring and digging into such a delicate skin, turning the fair territory into red marks of my possession of her.

 

Of course, Ubbe and Hvitserk had something to say. They know nothing. I can see my words make her tremble. I want to see her whimpering soon. Hvitserk claiming she is a princess is laughable. If I wanted, she would be a thrall now and already used to take me in. I imagine how tight she will feel around me as the soft cries leave her beautiful lips. I think it is worth the wait for when I finally have her, I will be a starving man with a rich meal and everyone will want to be in my place with a precious Princess instead of a used thrall.

 

I see she has some hot blood running through such a small body. She faces me as if we were on the battlefield and I am sure I have made the right decision to claim her. I will enjoy bending her to my will.

 

Seeing the disbelief and maybe envy in the eyes of my brothers make my heart beat faster as I make my claim clear. I want to laugh at their scandalized faces, “My woman wants to talk to me without curious eyes, brothers. Leave us.”

 

Of course, Sigurd had something to say. As if it was not already difficult to resist the promise of the pleasure her body can give me, he challenges me to make her mine. I will not be quiet while he threatens to take what belongs to me. I see the way Sigurd looks at her, even though he does not dare to defy me. He wants her and even dares to smile at Blaeja. I want to slam the table when I notice she is returning his smile. I will show her she cannot use the lips that are mine to seduce other men. When I recall her purpose here, I see her chest rising and falling with her breathing. I scared her.

 

As I drink my mead I watch the way her dress embraces her body perfectly. The firm and round breasts, the little waist and I want to pull up her dress to see the smooth skin of her legs.

 

Obviously, she brought bad news. She would not come to me if she was not forced to. An unauthorized raid. I want names. I will not allow my own men to act behind my back. I hope she is not being inspired by this. I notice her discomfort to talk about it and it seems she is afraid I ordered the incursion. She does not know what her pleading eyes do to me. I have never felt this way. She awakes in me the desire to both protect and consume her. It is confusing. Her voice is modulated, and I wonder how it would feel to have her trembling beneath me, with her legs wrapped around my waist.

 

“If it is your intention to make Northumbria your home, these crimes must stop,” She can make my blood boil. She thinks she can tell me what to do. Let me see how long she can keep her posture. I am sure she is as disturbed as I am. It hurts my pride if I am the only one affected by her presence. Beneath the image of the dutiful must hide a woman with desires. Maybe desires I can fulfill.

 

She blinks when I stand in front of her and swallow when I take her lustrous hair between my fingers.

 

“Are you ordering or threatening me?” I will not yell at her. It is not necessary. I need to know how she feels being so close to me.

 

“None of those options. I'm advising you, as your future wife. If you don't want to sleep in your bed with your eyes open, it would be better if the people don't feel pushed to rebellion.” I cannot stop thinking her father could have succeeded if he had listened to her. And the smart woman in front of me will be mine. Her words will be to my ears only.

 

“Are you concerned about my peace of mind and my sleep? How adorable…” It is so satisfying seeing her angry. Watching the ice melt with the fire I am lighting would be a victory. But she has an answer, and it is one that does not leave me space to fight her back. No, it is not her cunning mind defeating me. It is her scent invading my nostrils and intoxicating with a need for more.

 

“I'm talking as someone who will share this bed…” Why did she have to mention what has been tormenting since I first laid my eyes on her? Is it possible she has been thinking about it as much as I am? I am sure she is. She must be dreading the possibility.

 

“I see someone eager to warm my bed.” Her skin is warm and delicate beneath my calloused fingers as I tuck her hair behind her ear, “You know that if I wanted to pull up your skirts and bend you over that table to fill you, no one would say a thing, right?” The thought of satisfying my thirsty is so tempting. No, I will not risk everything because of her. Even though I can feel her body reacting to mine. Or is it what I want to see? My nose against such a delicate neck is making all coherence leave me. I clamp my fingers until my knuckles are hurting to avoid grabbing her neck. I am picturing these black pools wide open as I control the air she breathes. Will she beg me to stop?

 

“I know. No one would defy you… openly. But this would be the root of your downfall.” It amazes me how she can still make threats that sound like a worried bride advising me. I smile and breath on her neck as I feel her heart is racing.

 

“Threats again?” her cheeks are flushed, and I want to feel her hands on me, even if it is to push me away, but I have never met such a fierce opponent. She keeps talking as I am not holding her life in my hands.

 

“What kind of woman would I be to threat my future husband?” she is trying to make me think about my own actions, but I cannot prove it. At last, I found someone worth my time. The Gods must be enjoying watching my exasperation. Giving me a woman fit to be Queen on the opponent's side.

 

“I can see you did not know about these attacks. The people must trust you, they must see you are in control and that they have no reason to rebel against you.” How does she know I did not order the raid? It surprises me she can read me so easily. Not giving away my intentions was something that always worked to my advantage and something that made me proud. It is frustrating that she can read me so easily, while I cannot be sure about her thoughts. This woman confuses me. I can feel she is afraid, yet she speaks what she thinks and defend her people as fiercely as if they are her children. But she does not disrespect my beliefs, she talks about the importance of taking control of what I conquered, and it is admiring that she is not crying and begging for me to leave. Blaeja talks about the Saxons seeing me as a leader and I am curious to know if she thinks I am a better ruler than her father. I might be a strategist and a successful warlord, but will I be able to bring our people together and be respected by both?

 

“Do you like when I am in control?” I want to pull her closer and kiss those lips that are forming a pout because of my words.

 

“It is not about what I like, it is about our people. Your warriors cannot walk around as if we were still in a war. They must learn how to coexist.” Always the loyal Princess. Is it going to be always about duty?

 

I can see she is not satisfied with my promise to punish the disobedience of my men. Does she want more?

 

“But still…” I roll my eyes because I want Blaeja to be objective. Maybe, we will have time to talk about more interesting things. Her hesitation makes me anxious, “It is important to punish them, but we must think about some compensation for those women. Their virtue was…” I understand her fear now, she is thinking about the proper words not to offend me, “They lost their virtue. It will be difficult for them to find a suitable husband…” I watch her gulping and I am sure she is pondering about our situation. She must think I am not worthy of her. What a proud woman. I want to laugh at her, but I will have time for this.

 

“What is your suggestion?” The surprise on her face is lovely. I want to add, ‘See? I am not so terrible! I can be good for you if you learn your place.’

 

“I do not know how it is in your home…” When I am ready to correct her, she quickly changes her choice of words. Such a smart wife she will be, “I mean… I-I do not know how you deal with these matters in your homeland. But if a man rapes a virgin he can be killed or mutilated.” The fierceness with which she talks makes me proud, although we both know I am the one holding power here. The way she looks at me while talking about the penalty for these transgressions makes me think she is warning me about how to treat her. Little she knows I am lectured in her customs.

 

“I believe you are not hoping I will do this to my men.” The hatred in her face does not let me doubt that if she were Aelle's heir, I would have been defeated. It is the first time I can remember she allowed a crack on her facade of compliant Princess.

 

“I do not. Yet, those women are your subjects now. Even if their fathers are dead, the offense was against you as they are under your protection. They are not slaves.” She is defending their dignity and I sense she is including herself. I brought her under my protection indeed. But it is impossible to deny I am fighting the anger inside of me that keeps pushing me to offend and hurt her for what her father did. This urge is stronger when I feel she is thinking I am beneath her.

 

“Back home those crimes are not common. When it happens, the man is banished and anyone that passes by him can kill him without consequences.” I want to show her we have laws too. We are not the animals she must be thinking we are.

 

“I suppose you do not want to do this either and dismantle your army. We must find a middle ground. As those women will hardly find a husband to provide for them, I suggest that your men pay a compensation that can make them more desirable if someone wants to marry them or to finance their subsistence.” I know my men will not be satisfied if they have to hand over the gold it was promised to them when they pledge allegiance and joined me to avenge my father. But I suppose it will show them they cannot do as they please.

 

“I suppose it will teach them a lesson. But I have heard that is common that the woman marries the man who attacked her.” Her hesitation offends me. I am talking about her customs and there is no doubt in my mind she is disgusted by the idea because my men are not Christians.

 

“How can I force those women to marry their violators?” Watching her so vulnerable inspires in me the need to protect her. But, at the same time, I want to tell her that if those women's families could not defend their honor and property, they are to blame. I am torn between hating and caring about her. But the fact is that we have an agreement that I am to protect Northumbria and the fact my orders were not obeyed push me to agree with her even more.

 

“It is not you who insists that our people must coexist? I am suggesting something that respects the laws you have here. I am offering them a chance to stay under protection…” I must remind her of her hypocrisy in trying to fool me about her laws. It is not my fault the Saxons are more inclined to forgive this kind of offense instead of seeking revenge.

 

“But… those men hurt them…” She is terrified not because my men do not worship her God, but because of what they did.

 

“They will understand the women are free and to disrespect a free woman is dishonorable. They are free to ask for a compensation in gold too.” Her mouth opens, and she stays silent for some moments pondering my suggestion.

 

“That sounds good. I don't think many women will admit what happened out of shame. But I am grateful.” She smiles at me and I bite my lips not to return the gesture. She must not think I am weakened by her request, but as soon as she turns to leave, my lips curl up out of their own volition. No, she will not leave thinking she won me, “And they will give the things they stole back. I will not tolerate insubordination and it applies to you.”


	4. Revenge or Acceptance (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar and Blaeja's perspective on their wedding.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He had heard Aella had a son. Of course, he was interested in his son. He wanted to see if he could be a good pawn, obeying their orders as a puppet king. But Aella’s daughter was a completely different thing. It's the duty of a father to protect his daughter and Ivar knew how it would be a torture for Aella to know his little girl would suffer because of him, because of his defeat.

 

Ivar gave his word he would never take weapons against Aella. Ivar's men were another matter. That's why Ivar couldn't fight against Aella’s army. Staying on a hill, watching his brothers and warriors having all the fun. He knew his time would come. The time to satisfy his thirst for blood. He told Aella that his death wouldn't be enough. Ivar wanted his kingdom to bleed.

 

“You killed my father in a dishonorable way. Your death won't end this. I'll hunt and torture your son. I'll have your daughter… no, I won't be the only one to have her, my brothers will ravish her, and our men. Then, maybe I'll be merciful and slit her throat. Maybe…”

 

Ivar was remembering how those words brought tears of desperation to Aella’s eyes. It was satisfying. Now he was to marry Aella’s daughter and make her suffer.

 

When he saw her standing as a Queen waiting for them at the gates, Ivar couldn't bear the thought of anyone else breaking her. It should be him.  _How someone who lost everything could still be kind and brave?_ Ivar wondered while watching Blaeja talking to a little girl and her mother.

 

_I might put a child inside her tonight. Will she smile at a child born from my seed?_

 

Ivar couldn't wait to marry her and get his second revenge. Tonight, Ivar's smile was wicked while watching her every move. She walked to the kitchens to check if there were enough food, ale, and mead. He wondered how could she look happy organizing her own torment.

 

_She won't smile for long._

 

 

* * *

 

 

The ceremony was pagan. Blaeja knew Ivar would never be baptized to marry her the Christian way. She was not sure if God would bless this union anyway. She prayed the only Father he had now would understand her reasons and preserve her soul in Heaven when the time of her death was to come.

 

Since the proposal, the week before, she had seen him so little, only during the dinner. She couldn't decide if this was good or bad.

 

Now they were celebrating their marriage with music, dancing, drinking, food, and laughter. She smiled seeing her people mixed with his. For the first time, forgetting their differences. If the price to pay was a life by his side, she could bear it.

 

“Thor’s hammer must be placed in the bride's lap so she can have many children.” Said the woman who performed the ceremony earlier, placing the lucky charm in Blaeja’s lap.

 

She looked at Ivar who gave her an enigmatic smile, something primal and hungry in his eyes, something deep within him calling to something deep within her. Showing his teeth as a predator ready to attack. Blaeja wondered how many times he would take her before she conceived a child. _Will he stop if I give him a considerable number of sons? How humiliated will I feel during the act?_ Her head was spinning with the knowledge he had plans for her. Plans involving pain, subjugation, tears, and suffering. Blaeja could not deny the shivers down her spine or the flushed cheeks whenever he looked at her.

 

She learned that it was her duty to fill a gold goblet with honeyed ale.

 

_Is this a symbolism that I must be the one to bring some gentleness to his life? Will I be able to do so?_

 

With both hands, she held the cup to Ivar. His gaze was intense and Blaeja fought not to tremble and spill the drink.

 

He took it from her and their hands touched in the process. He consecrated the mead to Thor by making the sign of a hammer over it and made a toast to Odin. He handed the chalice back to Blaeja, raising his eyebrows as a challenge. She held his gaze swallowing the sweet mead. Blaeja silently prayed the mead could bring some kindness and sweetness to their union.

 

Hvitserk raised his voice laughing, in Blaeja’s perspective he was clearly drunk, “It's time for my brother and his wife to retire. I can't wait to have nephews and nieces.”

 

The statement startled the princess, but she tried to hide her fear with a smile. Her eyes started wandering and she saw sympathy in Ubbe’s face, a reassuring smile that she reciprocated. Sigurd’s face was shadowed with pity. Ivar was on his feet before she could notice it. He was offering his hand while his face was deadly serious. He was analyzing her. She took his hand and his skin was rough but warm. His fingers holding hers with unnecessary strength, as she would try to run. He knew so little about her.

 

He didn't say a word until they reached the chambers.


	5. Revenge or Acceptance (Part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar has plans for their wedding night, but Blaeja's determination to endure whatever he has planned stands on his way. Will Ivar be able to fulfill the revenge he still has in mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your help Daizydoe. ^^
> 
> I'm working in an alternate chapter of their wedding night, it will be darker.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar slammed the door open and took Blaeja in his arms. She gasped in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck afraid she would fall. Looking at him Blaeja saw his jaw was clenching and a vein in his neck was pulsing. She traced this vein with her finger. Her mouth was slightly open feeling the warm and tender skin so different from what she thought it would be the rest of his body. Looking at his eyes, Blaeja saw the hatred was mixed with hunger. The closeness made it difficult to discern if it was her heart pounding in her chest or his heavy breathing against her ribs. Blaeja didn't know if it was important to know the difference if they were going to be one.

 

Ivar walked to the bed and shoved her onto the mattress. Blaeja opened her mouth to say something, but she thought it wouldn't be wise to say anything that could infuriate him.

 

She used her elbows and ankles to crawl backward and sat with her back against the headboard watching Ivar removing all his clothes but his breeches. She was flustered at his lack of ceremony. Ivar walked to the side of the bed when he noticed her embarrassment, taking her hand to place it on his crotch.

 

“Feel it. That's what you do to me. Will you take me in? Will you bear my children?” he was looking at her the whole time.

 

His words sent goosebumps shivering across her belly, making it impossible for Blaeja to say anything, she could only nod. She was curious and afraid it wouldn't fit inside of her, but she knew that he was determined to make it happen despite her feelings or fears. Her fingers were as curious as Blaeja as she caressed his shaft shyly and automatically. When Ivar grunted, Blaeja tried to remove her hand from his crotch.

 

“Don't be shy! It's all yours.” Ivar smiled predatorily.

 

“I hurt you!” Blaeja searched in his eyes for any sign of discomfort.

 

Ivar laughed and Blaeja tilted her head in confusion.

 

“No. You have already started pleasing me. It was a sound of pleasure. Do you want to satisfy me?” He took her chin making Blaeja look at him.

 

She nodded again.

 

“Tsk, Tsk. Use your mouth!” Ivar laughed seeing her jaw slackening as she realized what it was he had been aiming for the whole time. To humiliate her.

 

“Not this way. Say the words.” Ivar took a strand of her hair with his fingers. She sighed, relieved that he didn't mean for her to take him in her mouth.

 

“I want to make you happy, husband!” Blaeja didn't know if she wanted to please him feeling desired at the same time, or if she wanted to appease the violent beast she knew he could be.

 

“Always the good girl, aren't you? Will you be good to me?” Ivar’s fingers tangled in her hair, digging against her scalp to hold her in place.

 

“I will be good to you, husband!” she exhaled softly, gulping as Ivar started leaning forward.

 

His nose was touching hers and they were breathing the same air. Blaeja closed her eyes thinking he would kiss her. Ivar watched her expression and started shaking his head to erase the stupid ideas that came to his mind.

 

  _Seeking happiness is foolishness. Only fame and power matter._ Ivar thought, trying to stick with his plan _  
_

 

He walked to a table where they had mead. Blaeja was now looking at him with terror in her eyes while Ivar was swallowing the contents of the goblet.

 

 _He is not pleased._ Blaeja noticed his confusion and feared for the consequences. _  
_

 

“Let me serve you!” Blaeja said preparing to leave the bed.

 

“You will! Don't worry!” Ivar said filling the goblet again and glancing at her.

 

Blaeja didn’t know what was more frightening, his proximity making her shudder in anticipation, or his distance making her mind wander through unpleasant scenarios.

 

When Ivar started walking back to bed she let out a breath she hadn't realize she'd been holding. Ivar sat beside Blaeja offering her the drink. She took the goblet from his hands.

 

“Thank you!” Blaeja started drinking closing her eyes.

 

Ivar was absorbed by the vision in front of him. Imagining her closing her eyes while he claimed her.

 

_I can't take it anymore._

 

He took the goblet from her hands and Blaeja opened her eyes in surprise. The innocence in her face increasing Ivar's arousal.

 

Ivar drank the rest of the mead, looking at her mouth slightly open. Discarding the goblet without giving any mind, his thumb started circling her lips. Blaeja closed her eyes and kissed his finger. It was enough for his erection to get more painful and he grunted. Blaeja looked at him worried again.

 

“Do you have any idea about what you do to me?” Ivar whispered.

 

Blaeja opened her mouth to say something, Ivar silenced her by covering her lips with his. He held her head with a firm hand and started licking the mead from her lips. It was tickling and she gasped placing her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Ivar proceeded with light bites and she moaned digging into his skin with her nails. Something started throbbing inside of her and her heart was beating as fast as if she were in a race. The only difference was that she didn't know if she wanted to run.

 

When she opened her mouth to gasp once more, Ivar invaded her mouth with his tongue. She reciprocated shyly at first, but his thirst soon woke something wild inside of her and their kiss deepened. She started rubbing her thighs tightly together trying to find some relief for the rhythmic pulsing in her core, her fingers were in his hair, pulling and trying to ease the intense and odd reactions from her body. They stopped to breathe and Ivar's hand descended to her throat and she started blinking.

 

“Do you want this?” Ivar asked.

 

Blaeja nodded, parting her swollen and glistening lips for a deep, shaky breath. Her throat was dry making it difficult to answer him with words. Blaeja placed her hand on his chest and smiled tiredly. Her fingers tracing the patterns on his broad and well-defined chest. She could feel Ivar's gaze on her.

 

“Do you want this?” Ivar insisted, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

 

“I want this!” she said out loud breathless.

 

Ivar groaned and started kissing her passionately, covering her body with his. She opened her legs and he pressed his erection against her thighs. Using his arm to balance his weight, Ivar was exploring Blaeja’s body as eagerly as she wanted to discover him too. Her right hand holding on his strong arm and the other hand caressing his hair.

 

She was moaning against his lips and Ivar smiled. The ideas of revenge leaving his mind for some moments.

 

His hand started pulling up her dress and exploring her thighs. Blaeja increased the strength of her grip on his arm. When Ivar found her mound, he noticed she was already wet, she tensed and closed her thighs around his hand.

 

“Tsk, Tsk! It's all right!” Ivar whispered with hot breath caressing the sensitive area behind her earlobe and sending chills through her body.

 

He felt her relaxing again and knew it was time to prepare her to receive him. He teased his fingertips over her sensitive lips, spreading her moisture and opening her. His thumb was circling the tiny nub of flesh between her folds until he thought she was wet enough to be penetrated by his fingers. He probed her entrance and started entering her slowly. Ivar was not usually a patient man, but when the conquest required it, he could take his time.

 

“I-Ivar” Blaeja begged.

 

He started kissing her face and she relaxed, sighing. He pushed his finger deeper and felt the resistance of her virginity. He was her first and would be her last. The realization made him groan in anticipation of how it would feel to sink into her tightness. Ivar started making circles with his digit inside of her until he felt she was ready to receive a second finger, Blaeja arched her back and whimpered when he did and Ivar started sucking on her lower lip.

 

Feeling the heat radiating from her skin was making Ivar long for more and so he started kissing and licking the skin of her neck. He added a third finger and her walls started squeezing around him. He was moving carefully, but his patience was ending because of the painful erection constricted inside his breeches and her squealing sounds were making so difficult to resist much more.

 

He stopped the movement of his fingers to remove his last piece of clothing. Blaeja opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him fully naked.

 

Ivar's hand started stroking his shaft and he used her moisture on his tip. To watch her surprised and scared expression was exciting for him. He started removing her dress to see more of her body. Ivar was absorbed in the softness of her delicate skin that was so different from his. His eyes going from the thick thighs that were sweating and painted with some blood of her broken innocence painting the mattress to her flat abdomen that he hoped to fill with a child. He kept his gaze a little more on the round breasts meant to feed their children. Seeing her chest rising and falling with her breathing was making his member throb.

 

Then he stopped, his eyebrows furrowed. The dead God was lying in a cross around her neck. When Blaeja noticed his hesitation she raised her hand to touch him, but Ivar looked away in frustration remembering who they were.

 

“It was my mother's. She died giving birth to my brother when I was a child. I wanted her to be with me during the wedding. At least in spirit.” Blaeja explained and sat on the bed, removing the crucifix and placing it on the small table near the bed. Ivar was analyzing her.

 

Blaeja’s hand started stroking his face.

 

“Why do you make it so difficult to hate and hurt you?” Ivar’s gulped audibly.

 

“Do you want to hurt me, husband?” she searched for his eyes.

 

“I wanted to break you when I saw you. And even before, I told your father I would torture and humiliate you.” Ivar confessed not surprising her.

 

“Our parents are gone. We are the only ones here. A man and his woman. Can we forget what the world thinks we are and discover what we can be together?” Blaeja pleaded.

 

_She says she is mine. Can we be happy?_

 

“Do you want to be mine?” Ivar muttered, still suspicious of her intentions.

 

“I want this to work out. But you can't possess me without giving yourself. Can you be mine, Ivar?” Blaeja cupped his face looking deep into his eyes.

 

Ivar tilted his head closing his eyes and melting with her touch, “Are you afraid of me?” Ivar opened his eyes to read her face.

 

“I'm trying to trust you. I shouldn't be afraid or suspicious of my husband.” Blaeja used her fingertips to caress his beard.

 

“I won't hurt you trying to heal myself. I promise you!” Ivar took her hand with his.

 

“I believe you.” Blaeja smiled at him.

 

Ivar smiled back leaning forward to capture her lips in a heated kiss. Soon Blaeja was pinned down against the bed and feeling his muscular and warm body against her skin. Ivar lips explored her mouth, jaw, neck and traveled to her breasts where he started sucking one of her nipples and rolling the other between his thumb and index finger. When both were panting and sweating, Ivar kissed her once more and raised his torso to look at her.

 

“Are you ready?” He asked with one of his hands on her hips.

 

“I'm ready.” She smiled nervously.

 

Ivar used one of his hands to guide himself inside of her, pushing in slowly not to hurt her. Blaeja could see he was restraining himself by the way his jaw was clenching and the quick rise and fall of his broad chest. Sucking in a breath, she felt him stretch her with the velvet skin of his shaft. He closed his eyes drowning in the sensations.

 

He knelt between her legs, his hands holding onto her hips and marking her skin with his passion. When he was all the way inside of her, Ivar stopped allowing her to adjust. She was so tight he could barely breathe with the way her muscles constricted him. He opened his eyes to look at her, seeing a tear running down her flushed cheek worried him. He didn’t like seeing Blaeja crying like he thought he would. He was retreating when she held the hands he had on her hips.

 

Breathing out Blaeja said, “Don't stop.”

 

“Giving me orders, wife? Already?” Ivar smiled in mockery.

 

She giggled, “And you better accept them. You're mine.”

 

“I'm yours.” He agreed, feeling her hands going up and exploring the muscles from his arms.

 

Ivar covered her body again and felt her legs wrapping around his waist. She used her hands to bring him closer and started devouring his mouth. It was all the motivation Ivar needed to start moving his hips again. He picked up the pace and started slamming his flesh against her.

 

She cried out, “IVAR.”

 

“What's wrong?” he exclaimed, afraid that he was too rough with her.

 

Blaeja laughed, “It was a sound of pleasure. Do you want to please me, husband?”

 

“By Freyja, you will be the death of me.” He whispered.

 

“No. I won't be your death. I'll be your whole life!” Blaeja replied.

 

Ivar nodded and with his hands on her hips, he urged her to match his rhythm. She had her own ideas and started making circles with her hips grinding against him. Once they discovered their cadence, Blaeja found the release of all her worries, arching her back and digging her nails into his sweaty back. Looking at her face contorted with pleasure sent him over the edge and Ivar buried himself inside of her to the hilt throwing his head back in the process.

 

Ivar was trembling above her and holding his weight on his elbows as to not crush Blaeja, then he felt her small arms enlacing him and bringing him to her embrace. It was so comforting the sensation of her hands caressing his back and scalp. Ivar was snuggling against her neck and Blaeja started kissing his temple when he looked at her.

 

“Can we be happy?” Ivar questioned, speaking more to himself than to her.

 

“We can try, can't we?” Blaeja pointed out, “right now I'm the happiest that I've been in a long time.” Her fingertips trying to dissolve the worries expressed in his furrowed eyebrows.

 

“I'm happy too and it's frightening.” Ivar removed himself from her, pulling Blaeja close to his chest when he laid on his back.

 

“Frightening?” She asked feeling Ivar stroking her hair.

 

“Yes. No one is allowed to be happy for long. It's a trick from the Gods, to make us think we can be happy, then when we are lost in our dreams, they take everything from us.” Ivar speculated.

 

“You might be right. What more should we do than to live for today?” Blaeja raised her head to look at him.

 

“For now, let's sleep.” He suggested.


	6. Revenge or Acceptance (Alternate Version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternative and darker version of their wedding night. Beware with blasphemy, swearing and rough sex.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ivar slammed the door open and took Blaeja over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. She gasped in surprise and tried to hold onto his tunic. Ivar laughed, “You won't fall!”

 

Walking to bed he shoved her onto the mattress. Blaeja’s face flushed crimson as she looked up at him in anticipation. Her disheveled and black hair making a perfect contrast against her fair skin. Ivar smirked, watching the rising and falling of her chest. The knowledge he would be the only one to see her in such a state made him feel like possessing something precious no one would ever know about it.

 

She used her elbows and ankles to crawl backward and sat with her back against the headboard, watching Ivar removing all his clothes but his breeches. She slid her tongue across her lips without even thinking.

 

 _The evil comes in the best shapes and is alluring._ Blaeja thought while her heart was pounding.

 

Even from distance, she could notice his jaw was clenching and a vein in his neck was pulsing. She was feeling shivers down her spine picturing how he would take his fury upon her.

 

He was naked and feeling her gaze on him. He knew women found him attractive, but he didn't know a Christian Princess would watch him so openly, even if it was their wedding night. He walked to a table and started drinking the mead.

 

 _I must test how prude she is._ Ivar thought and swallowed another goblet of mead while smiling devilishly at her.

 

She didn't know if she should be more afraid when he was serious or smiling.

 

_When he is serious, he is still planning something. But when he is smiling it means he is amused, what can only represent a danger for he already has a plan._

 

She saw hatred and hunger in his beautiful blue eyes and prayed silently that her patience and kindness could be enough to subside his bloodthirsty nature.

 

When Ivar shifted closer to her, the Princess felt a knot forming in her belly. He took her hand and placed it on his throbbing cock.

 

“Feel it. That's what you do to me and you'll take every inch of my cock and make it feel good.” Ivar hissed through his clenched teeth while his fingers tangled in the roots of Blaeja's hair and he pulled her head back.

 

Blaeja didn't want to feel an odd aching between her legs because of his harsh treatment and vulgar words, but the thought of being capable to please him didn't feel humiliating. She felt somehow powerful.

 

“Are you hearing me? I'll use you as I please, either you want it or not. If you don't want it, it's even better. It will be fun to break you.” Ivar leaned forward and captured her lips.

 

Blaeja tried to reciprocate the kiss, but Ivar's dominance was making it impossible. She couldn't suppress a moan as her fingers curled around him and she started pumping his length, stroking him from root to tip. Ivar grunted and broke the kiss, looking at her with curiosity.

 

“It looks like you're not so innocent. I wonder how many of your father's men had found their way with you.” Ivar offended her.

 

“How dare you? I saved my virginity for my husband.” Blaeja’s cheeks were red with embarrassment, anger, and excitement.

 

“Huh! Have you saved yourself for me?” his tongue peeked out and he licked his lower lip, tilting his head in mockery, “Let's see my reward!”

 

Ivar's hand began a tortuously slow descent from her hair to her jaw, her neck, across her collarbone and down to her breasts. He fondled her breasts through the fabric of her dress and Blaeja writhed.

 

Blaeja was confused, her head spinning because of Ivar's ministrations and his mood swings. In a minute he was offending her, now he was caressing her as if he loved and cherished her.

 

Blaeja couldn't help rubbing her thighs tightly together, trying to find some relief for the rhythmic pulsing in her core. When Ivar noticed her actions, he pinched her nipples hard. Blaeja arched her back and whimpered. Ivar was disappointed because he wanted to hurt her.

 

“Do you like it rough? I have a few ideas.” Ivar whispered against her ear, his hot breath on her skin was increasing her arousal.

 

“I'm sure you thought about something!” Blaeja cupped his face and tried to kiss him.

 

Ivar rose to his feet and Blaeja sighed, “We are not making love! I'll hump you so hard that you will walk stiff tomorrow morning thinking that my cock is still inside you.” He threatened.

 

His words sent goosebumps shivering across her belly, making it impossible for Blaeja to say anything, she could only nod. The way he was looking at her felt like he was claiming her already. She was curious and afraid it wouldn't fit inside of her.

 

Seeing Blaeja’s mouth hanging open was giving him ideas. He used her hand against his cock to stroke him once more. When he groaned and cursed, she tried to remove her hand.

 

“What's the problem. You worship a dead God, now you're going to worship my cock and it's much alive. Feel how hot it is.” Ivar gave her a predatory smile, baring his teeth.

 

Blaeja wanted to tell him of his blasphemy, but she felt he was teasing her.

 

Ivar chuckled and Blaeja tilted her head in confusion.

 

“No more talk? It pleases me when a woman knows how to put her mouth to better use. Do you want to please me?” He took her chin making Blaeja look at him. She nodded, feeling her throat tightening.

 

“Tsk, Tsk. Use your mouth!” Ivar laughed at her surprised expression.

 

“It's wrong. I-I can't…” Blaeja whimpered and stopped caressing his manhood.

 

“Who said it was wrong? Your priests?” Ivar howled, “they know nothing since they don't use their cocks.” He burst into laughter.

 

“Ivar…” she tried to lecture him.

 

  _How would it feel to have him in my mouth?_ Blaeja thought and cursed herself immediately after realizing where her mind was going to.

 

“Oh no! I'm wrong! They might use their cocks in each other's butts.” Ivar barked, making Blaeja gasp in shock.

 

“You even now how to open your mouth wide. Will you make me happy? Will you be a good wife?” Ivar started playing with her hair.

 

“I want to make you happy, husband!” Blaeja knew that pleasing him was a way to make Ivar less inclined to violence.

 

“Always the good girl, aren't you? Will you be good to me?” Ivar’s fingers tangled in her hair again, digging against her scalp to hold her in place.

 

“I will be good to you, husband!” she exhaled softly, gulping as Ivar started leaning forward.

 

“How are you planning to be good to me?” Ivar had a little smile, his teeth resting on his lower lip.

 

“I-I will respect and bear your children. I will be loyal.” Blaeja promised in the hope it would be enough.

 

“Are you eager to take my seed? Do you want to grow round with my child? I might give what you are craving,” Ivar tilted his head, “if you prove yourself worth it.”

 

His nose was touching hers and they were breathing the same air. Blaeja closed her eyes, thinking he would kiss her.

 

Ivar was fascinated, watching her expression. Without warning, he pulled down her dress. His hands were rough and Blaeja opened her eyes in shock.

 

“Delicious tits, wife!” he felt his mouth watering, “I can't wait to play with them now that they are on full display.” Ivar pinned her against the bed and started devouring the delicate flesh of her neck.

 

She didn't want to feel that way. Blaeja knew she should be outraged and disgusted, but being aware that Ivar couldn't wait to undress her was a realization. She had never felt so desired.

 

His lips and teeth marking her skin felt so animalistic and she understood why the Church warned about the sins of the flesh and how women were guilty of eliciting the primal urge on men.

 

His lips started going down to her breasts. His constant sucking and biting were making her vision blur with unshed tears, and she would arch her back if his weight were not upon her.

 

Ivar could see her reactions. Smiling wickedly against her breasts he was determined to make her beg to be subjugated by him.

 

His hand was pinching her flesh and going down to pull up the rest of her dress. Ivar growled when she opened her legs to give him better access.

 

“So eager.” Ivar laughed while his hand abandoned her thighs going to her throat.

 

Blaeja was whimpering and sweating, her hands were slipping against Ivar's waist trying to bring him closer. When he used more strength on her throat, instead of begging him to stop she mewled, “Please, Ivar!”

 

“Please? Tell me what you want! Do you know I could end your life right now, don't you?” Ivar said, coming closer to her face and licking her teary cheeks.

 

His grip on her throat was not too tight, yet she said nothing. Her hips answered his question, thrusting against his hard cock. Blaeja enlaced his waist with her legs and whined, feeling the warmth of his manhood against her wetness.

 

Ivar felt how soaked wet she was and he hasn't even touched her slit yet. He could smell the first slight musk of her arousal, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. _A responsive wife; a blessing from the gods. She is enjoying this._

 

He released her throat and his fingers wandered to her inner thighs, tweaking her tender skin and making Blaeja groan and twist.

 

“I wonder how your father would react to see his little girl panting beneath me. I should have delayed his death to give you his head as your morning gift. He would beg for death while you begged for my cock.” Ivar watched the tears rolling from her face and laughed, licking them once more.

 

“I wonder if the wetness from your cunt is as salty as your tears. Let's see!” Ivar started kissing and biting his way to her passage.

 

His bites on her inner thighs were leaving marks. Blaeja was crying out and closing her legs against his head. Ivar lost his temper, slapping her sensitive flesh. Seeing the mark of his claim on her skin made his cock twitch.

 

“Stop squealing! You will writhe when my prick stretches you wide open.” Ivar pressed his nose against her opening.

 

Blaeja could barely think beyond the aching in her core and the longing to be filled, although she was dimly aware of how wanton she must look, spread legged and half-naked, with her sore nipples poking forward.

 

His hands latched onto her thighs hard enough to leave marks, and he pressed his mouth into her pussy so savagely that Blaeja thought he would suffocate; He nibbled and sucked at her pussy lips, brutally drawing her sensitive flesh into his mouth as if he were a thirsty man.

 

The chamber was filled with the wet, sloppy sound of his mouth devouring her. Blaeja was struggling to lift her hips, but Ivar's arms were holding her thighs.

 

She knew that he was appreciating the effect he had on her, but she craved too much to care. Without thinking, she lifted one hand to soothe her neglected nipples.

 

He looked at her and was surprised to find Blaeja sucking her lower lip as her fingers were playing with her nipples.

 

“Are you touching yourself? Don't touch what is mine! You're misbehaving." He rose to his feet and Blaeja followed his moves with her eyes. He was back to bed with ropes that Blaeja didn't know were there.

 

 _He has everything planned._ Blaeja thought, breathing through her mouth.

 

Ivar used his skills to tie her wrists to the headboard. He found curious that she didn't try to fight. Once he had finished, Ivar gently brushed a strand of her long dark hair away from her face and started touching her breasts again.

 

Blaeja was pressing her lips together not to give him the satisfaction to see how aroused she was. She failed when Ivar raised his hand to give a soft slap on her breasts.

 

“OH GOD!” Blaeja begged, sobbing unsure if she wanted deliverance.

 

“Call your god all you want. He can't save you! I've heard He wants souls, whatever it's this. I don't care! I want this body and the things it can do for me.” Ivar hissed, crawling back to her soaked pussy.

 

He buried his face in her folds and started licking and biting like a starving man. He grabbed her thighs to keep her still when Blaeja squealed, overwhelmed by the stimulation. The Princess tried to look at him, but his actions were making her eyelids heavy.

 

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Ivar, on the other hand, had his gaze on her, he wanted to feel his cock wrapped between those inviting swollen lips, but he knew he would not last if he did.

 

He sucked the protuberance between her folds even harder and felt she was close to breaking in pleasure, wailing as a violent tremor shook her body. He stopped abruptly kneeling between her legs. Blaeja opened her eyes and sighed in frustration.

 

“Enough of my tongue!” Ivar barked, slapping her pussy twice, making her yelp.

 

He stroked his prick between her swollen folds, mixing their arousal. Blaeja’s thighs were trembling as she was preparing herself to be taken, Ivar aimed himself to her entrance and made his way inside of her with one hard thrust. Blaeja closed her thighs around him, trying not scream because of the sharp pain.

 

Ivar hadn't prepared her with his fingers, and even though she was dripping, his well-endowed cock was stretching her painfully. Ivar started withdrawing and Blaeja let out a breath she hadn't realize she'd been holding and opened her eyes, finding him glancing at her.

 

Her eyes fluttered open and Blaeja swallowed at the sight of the lean, powerful body of the man looming over her. The muscles of his upper arms were tense by the effort to hold his weight over her. His intoxicating musk scent surrounded her, and her eyes were on his ripped chest that was heavily marked by scars and patterns in dark ink. All her senses were possessed by this man, and she wanted to feast her eyes on every detail, such as the toned lines, tight belly and solid hairy thighs.

 

“My fingers…it's hurting. C-could you untie me, Ivar?” Blaeja wailed.

 

“Why should I untie you?” he looked deep into her eyes, thrusting roughly and holding her hips so her wide opened thighs were resting against his thighs and only her back was touching the bed.

 

Ivar kept sinking into her brutally, burying himself deep into her until she felt stretched to the limit. Blaeja’s vision grew foggy and she was gasping because of the pleasure that started building.

 

Ivar felt her walls caressing him and wanted to test her boundaries a little more. Taking advantage of the fact Blaeja had her eyes closed now, Ivar raised his hand and smacked her ass. Her reaction surprised him again. She raised her hips and grunted. He wanted to see this again and kept slapping her ass until she was rocking her hips back and forth against him.

 

Ivar removed himself from her and she moaned in protest, making him smirk.

 

“I'll be right back. I'm far from finished with you.” He held on the headboard, removing her restraints.

 

She held on his back, trying to bring him closer as soon as she realized her hands were free.

 

Ivar was confused, the innocence in her face was so different from her lustful actions.

 

“Do you like this?” Ivar caressed her cheek with his thumb.

 

His warm and calloused hands against her soft skin was making her tremble. She opened her mouth to gasp and Ivar invaded her mouth with his tongue. She reciprocated as thirsty as him. They stopped to breathe and Ivar closed his fingers on her throat and Blaeja blinked.

 

“Do you want this?” Ivar asked with a thick voice.

 

Blaeja nodded, parting her swollen and glistening lips for a deep, shaky breath. She used her hands on his ass as an indication of what she wanted and Ivar smiled lecherously.

 

“I won't deny you anymore, little wanton thing.” Ivar showed no clemency in his thrusts; quickly slammed into her over and over again in a manner that reminded Blaeja of wrestling instead of coupling.

 

He took her with hard and irregular strokes, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. This angle had him pressing deeply. She clenched him each time he pulled back, clamping down as he thrust forward.

 

When he felt she was close, Ivar stopped moving, making Blaeja cry out frustrated, “NO!”

 

He laughed turned her over onto her stomach. She tried to look at him from over her shoulder, but Ivar pressed her head against the bed. He smacked her cheeks once more and she raised her hips to meet his hands.

 

“Beg for me!” Ivar barked.

 

With her face pressed against the mattress, her words were muffled.

 

“I can't hear you. Let's fix this.” Ivar grabbed a fistful of her long hair, yanking her head so he could look into her eyes.

 

“Take me, husband!” She asked.

 

“I'm not hearing you begging…” Ivar laughed in mockery until she interrupted him.

 

“That's because I'm not begging you. You want me as much as I want this.” She teased him.

 

Ivar's nostrils were flared, and his fists were clenched so hard the knuckles were white, he brought her closer to his chest, holding on her hair, “Don't be so sure of yourself. You're my mare.”

 

Blaeja smiled at him from upon her shoulder and pressed her ass against his cock, "Mount me then!"

 

Ivar grunted and took hold of her wrists as if they were reins and howled as he drove his cock deep inside her so hard that the sound of their skin slapping against each other echoed through the room like claps of thunder.

 

The noises were making Blaeja self-conscious that everyone could hear them. Ivar let go of her wrists and started rubbing her clit harshly, while his other hand was tightening around her throat. He could feel Blaeja was drowning in the highest waves of pleasure because she was panting and shaking while her moisture was trickling down her slit. Her muscles gripping his cock and causing Ivar to roll his eyes.

 

He used his weight to press her against the bed, mounting her from behind. Blaeja was crying out, fire shooting from her deeply sensitized breasts to her belly, rippling through her loins as she climaxed again, drenching his cock in a further deluge of her wetness.

 

Ivar stiffened over her, a low, growling roar growing more forceful with each ramming slam into her before he threw back his head, a howling cry of exquisite agony erupting from his throat as he bucked, took a few last intense thrusts, and stilled, grinding his fully-embedded cock against her.

 

Ivar grimaced, as he shot spurt after spurt of his hot seed up into her belly, milked by her convulsing pussy. As the last drops were massaged from his softening member, Ivar released a long sigh of satisfaction and collapsed down onto her, biting her shoulder.

 

After a few minutes, he pulled out and rolled to his side smacking her ass. Blaeja rose her head pouting her lips and giving him a passionately angry glance that made him chuckle. Ivar smiled, offering his hand. He could see the confusion in her eyes.

 

“Come here!” Ivar exhorted.

 

Blaeja blinked not knowing what to expect from him, but she thought it would be better to comply. She made an effort to reach his hand but she felt limp, drained and not able to move. Ivar laughed and instantly smothered her in his embrace. Her face pressed against his chest and her hand on his chest.

 

“I-Ivar?” Blaeja mumbled.

 

“What?” He looked down at her.

 

“I want to clean myself.” She looked at him embarrassed.

 

“Are you disgusted?” His face was distorted with rage.

 

“No! I’m not disgusted!” she assured him, “It’s just that… I want to sleep. If I don’t clean now, I’ll fall asleep.” Blaeja admitted.

 

Ivar laughed and rose to his feet. Blaeja saw him coming and handing her a wet cloth.

 

“Thank you!” she blushed.

 

Ivar nodded and started cleaning himself as well. When they were done, Ivar discarded the rags on the ground, making Blaeja shake her head in disapproval. He slid into bed beside her and gathered her into his arms, falling asleep fast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The door was opened by the servants and the morning light awoke him. He was frustrated with the intrusion.

 

Ivar smirked lustfully, looking down at his sleeping wife. Her face was pressed against his chest and her hot breathing tickling his skin. Ivar felt more blood rushing to his groin reminding him of his plans for their first morning.

 

The noise around them was making her blink lazily. She hid her face against him and groaned. Her childish actions made Ivar caress her hair.

 

“The bath is prepared, my Princess.” One of the servants announced.

 

“I appreciate, but my husband is going to help me. You’re dismissed.” Blaeja commanded, yawning.

 

“Will I?” Ivar raised his eyebrows.

 

“Of course! Do you want people whispering about the bruises you left on my body? How you tortured me, huh?” Blaeja grinned, watching the servants leaving the chambers.

 

“Torture?” Ivar groaned, licking his lips.

 

“Yes. Now you must take care of me to make amends.” Blaeja laughed, running to the bathtub.

 

Ivar followed her satisfied they could have more time for themselves.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they finally entered the hall to eat, Ivar’s brothers were almost finishing the meal.

 

Blaeja could feel them gazing at her, pity in their faces. She sat between Ubbe and Ivar. When she reached out her hand to grab a piece of bread the sleeve of her dress revealed her wrists. Ubbe noticed the bruises and stared at Ivar furiously.

 

Rising to his feet, Ubbe shouted, “What have you done, brother?”

 

Ivar returned Ubbe’s question with a confused expression.

 

Blaeja noticed what Ubbe was saying, she touched his shoulder and whispered, “Ubbe, calm down! I’m not hurt.”

 

“But…” Ubbe tilted his head.

 

“I’m not hurt!” Blaeja smiled.

 

“Oh…” Ubbe understood what she meant.

 

“Yes,” Blaeja reassured him.

 

Hvitserk was too distracted eating, “What is happening?”

 

“Nothing!” Blaeja, Ubbe, and Ivar yelled.


	7. Sacrifice and Guilt (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja witnesses a sacrifice as Ivar prepares to face an enemy away from home. They reflect on their marriage and inner desires.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It intrigued Blaeja the way Ivar walked past the crowd as if he was not seeing anyone but the man that offered his blood to ask for the Gods’ assistance. The few Northumbrians that were present did not hide their disgust as the crimson painted the man's tunic. Blaeja knew she should feel the same way and avert her eyes, but she felt different. Her heart was racing, and her mouth dried as her mouth was slightly open.

 

A priestess was holding a bow to gather the blood and plunged a bundle of fir branches in the precious substance. With sharp gestures, she moved the bundle over the people. It was when the few Christians left, walked away. Everyone but her. Blaeja was too transfixed to move and closed her eyes, feeling the still warm blood drops splashing against her face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I would never mistake this touch. I doubt any man can run his fingers through my skin with the exact amount of strength as Ivar. I open my eyes slowly and I’m overwhelmed by the way the flickering, uneven light from the torches dance around us, accentuating the sharp angle of his jaw and cheekbones and the bridge of his perfect nose. His height casts an even darker shadow over me and when I look up at him, it’s like he is made of gold.

 

My eyelids flutter as I don't know if I should focus either on his plump lips that are slightly open and urging me to throw myself in the warmth of his strong arms or the eyes that are gleaming, like a wolf about to take its prey. Those lips carry sweetness, but also venom when he wants to hurt those around him.

 

I wonder what Ivar sees as his eyes roam over my face, softening and starting to glow. He finished tracing a pattern on my forehead with his bloodied digit, but his calloused hand is still holding my cheek.

 

His breaths are steaming as he stares at me, bringing his thumb to my lips. I feel my heart skipping a beat when I notice his finger is slick with the blood that was spilled a few moments ago. I hold his wrist and snap exasperated, “No.”

 

His expression darkens as Ivar narrows his eyes at me, ignoring my remark. He keeps slowly shaping the form of my lips that are now trembling. I shut my eyes, trying in vain to stop the tears from falling. Ivar freezes when a whimper leaves my mouth and when my eyes land on his face I notice he is focused on my lips as if they are some kind of rare and unique thing in the world. A teardrop reaches my mouth and I see Ivar pursing his lips and his jaw clenching.

 

“Why are you terrified, hmm? Don’t you kneel gladly to take the blood of Christ during the Mass?” His tongue is darting out to wet his lower one. Suddenly both his hands are holding my shoulders and the strength of his grip forces a groan out of me. I gulp in fear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She is the only Northumbrian left after the ritual started and I can feel my chest swelling with pride. She is mine and every inch of a Queen. A Queen that doesn’t give away the fear she must be feeling. Blaeja is enduring and I feel a rush of blood going to my loins as I think about the things she might be willing to endure for me.

 

I see the way her breasts move with every intake of air as the _Gyðja_ splashes blood over her mesmerizing face. I reach out for the bow containing the sacred substance to appease the Gods. I scoop the dense and crimson blood from the bottom of the basin with three fingers and walk to her.

 

Her skin is warm as I trace the _Ehwaz_ rune on her forehead. Blaeja is my new beginning, and the sign that the Gods made what was fated to be mine reaches me in the most unexpected of ways. I thought about drawing _Berkana_ to ask _Frejya_ to bless her womb to provide life as I’m preparing to march against my enemies tomorrow, but I don’t think it would be the most appropriate moment to plant a child inside of her, although life and death are unavoidably linked. There is no birth without pain, no growth without change, no beauty without the darkness.

 

I look at the bloody mark and remember how I called her my mare on our wedding night. It was meant to torture and bring shame, but she had challenged me to mate with her. To be whole with her. I might be her stallion, a wild force that needs to be domesticated not to harm but never losing its power by this. Masculine and feminine need bonding to bloom.

 

The dark and mysterious eyes look back at me and I almost forget we are not alone. If I succumb to my desire, I’ll hold her down and claim her right here. I can see she is affected by the energy around us as Blaeja sucks in shallow breaths. Her cheeks feel warm with the heat radiating through us. She grew up protected by walls, while my skin is tanned from years of training under the sun and travels by foreigner seas. Iron might have never touched her, but my body is littered with so many scars that I doubt I can remember how I acquired each one of them.

 

I must content myself with stroking her face for now. I bring my thumb to her inviting lips.

 

She whines, and I’m taken aback for a moment, “No.” How dare she deny me and the blessing I’m asking upon us? Blaeja is my wife and she will get used to my ways.

 

I keep drawing the contour of her lips with my thumb until a whimper leaves her throat and I notice the tears running from her eyes.

 

“Why are you terrified, hmm? Don’t you kneel gladly to take the blood of Christ during the Mass?” I spit out and watch her eyes widening. I hold on her shoulder, trying to soothe her, but she groans, and I notice I applied too much force. I swallow hard, letting my hands fall to my sides. She takes a step back and when I try to step closer to comfort her, she flinches and turns on her heels, leaving me. I’m surrounded by a crowd, but I’ve never felt more alone. I failed to understand her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I enter the confessional box where I kneel, facing the grille behind which the priest can barely be seen. My hands are shaking, and I wipe the sweat of my palms furtively against my skirt.

 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was… I can’t even remember when it was my last confession.” I look down afraid the confessor is judging me as harshly as I’m judging myself, but he says nothing. I don’t know what is worse; his silence or if he tells me I’m as filthy as the pagans that came from the North.

 

I clear my throat to expose my fears, “I have been sinning in thoughts and actions.” I wait for the priest to urge me to confess what has been clouding my mind, but he only breathes heavily. So much like… No. I must be losing my sense of reality as I think he has been following me everywhere. Not even inside my head, I have peace.

 

“I grew up feeding on any crumble of affection my father could give me whenever I agreed with him, but then…” I swallow a sob when I think about my father’s destiny and how it could have been different if he had listened to me, “then I started to have a mind of my own and he couldn’t take it. Men must show they command, hmm?” I wipe my face with the back of my hand and sniff. When I look at the screen, the priest is moving uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“I’ve been trying to be a good Christian woman as I was raised to be, but my duty as a wife makes me feel like I’m neglecting and doubting the Church’s guidance…” I lift my hand to my mouth to muffle the whimper that threatens to come once more.

 

The priest is still in silence and I’m sure he is pondering about the political implications of my marriage and my salvation, “my husband…” the priest interrupts me with a grunt and I jump on my seat. The Devil must be playing with my mind and making me think about Ivar wherever I go, “Is everything okay?” I demand, narrowing my eyes. _Is it possible the priest is embarrassed with what he supposes I’m about to tell him?_

 

“Well, as I was saying… my husband.” Will I have the courage to tell him the things Ivar does? What if he uses my confession to damage Ivar’s reputation among my people? I must be cautious.

 

“My husband does things that I’m not sure if I should like, but the fact is…” the thought of Ivar taking me is making my skin tingle and burn delightfully, “the fact is that I enjoy those things. When we are alone he doesn’t treat me like the Princess everyone lies to. He treats me as a common woman and I’m free from the burden of behaving like people expect me to.” My confessor must be thinking I’m a spoiled Princess who can’t enjoy the comforts my status grants me. I know I shouldn’t envy the peasants, but sometimes I do.

 

“What should I do, Father? It’s the duty of a woman to preserve her marriage. In my circumstances, this calling is even more important. Many people rely on me.” It seems I’m waiting for a blade to chop off my head as I’m still kneeling, and the priest doesn’t give me the penance. Is it possible he doesn’t think I’m sinning? Does he believe my sins are too deadly?

 

I wait for the priest to say something, but my ears don’t register any sound besides his labored breathing, “Should I pray the usual amount of Hail Marys? Or maybe reflect on the scriptures.” I watch his shadow on the screen and he just nods weakly.

 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’ve been holding and I’m ready to proceed with the Act of Contrition, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because they offend You; my God, who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.”

 

My throat clenches as I realize what I’m saying. I’m already sinning for, although I’m terrified of the punishment for the delightful moments with Ivar, I don’t detest those moments either. I’m not even sure if they are sins. He might not be my husband before my God, but I’m his wife before his Gods. What would hurt me the most? The loss of a Heaven I don’t even know if it’s real, or the loss of his touch. I gasp when I notice the dangerous path my mind is leading me to.

 

“I know I shouldn’t wish to get rid of the responsibilities. God trusted me with. I’m being childish, forgive me for taking your time with my senseless worries. I shall leave you now and got back to my husband.” Using my right hand, I touch my forehead, “In the name of the Father,” going to my chest, “the Son,” and then my shoulders, “and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” I feel my voice failing me and I curl my fists as tight as I can, twisting them into my skirts as I stand up, “Thanks for listening to me, Father.” He just nods, and I kneel near the altar to pray for a sign I’m doing what I must to fulfill my role in God’s plan.

 

My thoughts go to Ruth and how much she endured until her destiny was revealed. Should I act as Ruth and adopt Ivar’s people and Gods? Should I try to bring him to under God’s wings? I laugh bitterly. Ivar would never accept that. But I remember how Lioba from Wessex joined St. Boniface on his journey to convert the people from the borders of the Frankish kingdom not so long ago. My hopes get higher as I remember Clotilde, wife, and queen of the Frankish Clovis and how she persuaded her husband to convert to Christianity. I walk back to my chambers with a lighter heart.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

I watch from the door as the tears gush from her closed and swollen lids. Her lips are moving in prayer as she holds a beaded necklace. At first, I smile, thinking it's one of my gifts, but then I notice the cross. She opens her dark eyes, and fix them with an expression of deep adoration upon the image of her God on the cross, and her lips start moving again. Her countenance expresses calmness now. So different from what I saw earlier. I smirk, remembering the smoothness of her lips against my mouth and the sweet sounds that leave her mouth whenever I'm claiming her.

 

I walk over silently until I'm standing by her side. I look down at those beautiful dark eyes and I wish I could judge if she craves my touch as much as I’m aching to have her. A goddess, and yet she’s kneeling at my feet. As many, she might think I don't deserve her, but I won’t hesitate to take every advantage to ensure I will keep her in my life.


	8. Sacrifice and Guilt (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja and Ivar face their cultural and religious differences trying to find a middle ground for their marriage.

 

* * *

 

 

 

I can feel the tingle of energy crackling across my skin. The fine hair on the back of my neck is standing on end just because his gaze is on me. I wonder if it is still a reminiscence from the apprehension I felt on our wedding night or something more. I take a deep breath, trying to retain concentration and finish my prayers.

 

“To bed!” Ivar grumbles and I feel my stomach fluttering.

 

“No,” I utter stubbornly, watching out of the corner of my eye as his jaw drops. My desire to smile with my little victory is short-lived.

 

“No? Are you denying me, wife?” Ivar groans, clenching his teeth.

 

“No! I’m not denying you. You will wait until I finish my prayers.” I look up at him, pressing my lips tightly together and I regret immediately. His pupils are dilated orbs within a dark rich indigo. The blue of a water so deep that I’m afraid to jump in, but still tempted to.

 

My gaze drifts from his eyes to his mouth. His perfect, sharp teeth are gleaming menacingly as he smiles, and I suck my bottom lip into my mouth in an attempt to contain myself. I can imagine his plans and heat floods my face in the same way it fills the rest of my body. I suppose I'll have to pray more than I had planned.

 

I keep whispering my prayers and rolling the beads of the rosary in my hands as his eyes are focused on my mouth. I can feel the heat radiating from his body while he sits on the bed so close to where I’m kneeling.

 

“Blaeja?” His snappy tone makes me more resolute to ignore him, so I shut my eyes. I’m half-tempted to laugh when he grunts.

 

“Are you really going to pray all night? We both know you’re not paying attention anymore.” He says in a low, suggestive tone that it is enough to make me sigh and roll my eyes.

 

“Do you ever stop talking?” His reaction is immediate, and it makes my heart skip a beat. He leans closer to me, upper lip curled in a snarl. Our noses are almost touching, but I don’t dare to look away.

 

The rosary falls from my trembling hands, and I gulp when Ivar’s expression change. He bares his teeth in a wolfish smile, kneeling to catch my rosary. I gulp when he brings his lips to my ear, “I didn’t like the way you talked to me.” Ivar tilts his head and his hot breath washes over my face. I can almost taste the mead lingering in his mouth. I hate myself for reacting this way at his proximity. He is not even touching me, but I know my defenses are already crumbling.

 

“I think you have finished your…prayers, haven’t you?” His voice is only a murmur, sending tremors through my skin as he is nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. I can barely nod, and he chuckles against my skin, “I knew a virtuous Princess like you, wouldn’t let me go to an uncertain destiny without showing me the Heaven you have between your legs.” I gasp in shock.

 

His teasing tone seems to hide something I might have only been imagining. Ivar pulls back, and his eyes go to my breasts. My nipples harden under his gaze, protruding through the thin fabric of my nightgown. His smile is triumphant when he reaches up and puts his big hand on the side of my face, tugging it toward him. I’m breathing through my mouth, expectant of what he will do.

 

My eyelids feel so heavy and I close my eyes, leaning on his touch. It doesn’t seem enough to satisfy my hunger for him, so I press my cheek against his chest and his hand slid to the hair at the nape of my neck. I smile, listening to Ivar humming his approval. With his other hand, Ivar brushes a finger from the shell of my ear to my neck and collarbone. The teasing is unnerving while he starts to pull down my nightdress, and I feel my knees trembling for more than the efforts to keep my position.

 

“My knees are hurting, Ivar,” I mutter against his chest and Ivar clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

 

“I thought you liked to kneel. I called you to bed and you denied me, huh?” He sneers, and I clutch a handful of his tunic to steady myself.

 

Ivar spreads the fabric wide, revealing my shoulders and the rising swells of my breasts. He encircles my waist with his arms and, growling deep in his chest, he lowers his lips to my neck.

 

Ivar moves his head from side to side while his teeth sink into my neck and shoulder. He devours me without ceremony, sucking the tender skin between his lips. For a moment I think I will have to use a high-collar dress for days, but the thought quickly fades with Ivar huffing against me.

 

I’m yelping in his arms, unable to hold back the loud moans that come from my mouth. His hand is no less eager. Ivar rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I toss my head back, crying out his name. Ivar pulls back, rewarding me with a look of fascination. He yanks my dress down until my breasts and stomach are exposed. The way he looks at me is like a promise he will consume me.

 

Ivar wraps his hands around my forearms, licking and sucking his way from my nipples to my neck and stopping at my trembling lips. I’m limp as he does what he wants to me. I keep my eyes closed the whole time in surrender, bracing myself to a rough kiss, but he lowers himself to my bosom once more, encasing my nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue. I’m spasming and the wet sounds coming from his ministrations makes me feel my core throbbing. I press my thighs together to find some relief, but it feels worse. There’s something missing.

 

“Ivar, please.” I’m panting and needing him inside of me now more than ever. It might be our last night. Who knows what God decided about our fate?

 

“You look so beautiful with tears leaking from those beautiful dark eyes.” His voice is hoarse and I’m not sure if it’s a praise or a threat.

 

Ivar rises to his feet and without his body to support me, I fall forward. He laughs and the glare I send his way might look like a challenge. Ivar grabs my jaw and I hold onto his forearm to support me as I get to my feet.

 

I'm whimpering, trying to entice him to kiss me. Yet, it seems he is determined to have me on my knees in more than one way. My fingers weave into his hair so I can clutch him to me. He grunts, closing the little inches that tear us apart, sealing our mouths.

 

My eyes are careening into the back of my skull as our lips hungrily meld together; tongues darting out right after, sliding alongside one another until we find it hard to breathe. I moan shamelessly against his mouth and his hands are roaming eagerly over my sides until they finally slid over my ass, and he squeezes tightly, pulling me against him to grind me into his front. I feel he is as ready to take me as I’m desperate that he will do.

 

I’m surprised when he suddenly pulls away. My mouth hangs open and he shoves me to bed. My confusion doesn’t last, and I find myself lifting my skirts and opening my thighs enthusiastically.

 

His next action makes me lick my lips in anticipation. Ivar starts to pull out from his trousers, “Will you keep your tunic on?” I’m aware I must look so wanton with my legs spread wide for him, allowing Ivar to see my arousal dripping from my entrance.

 

“I think seeing me stabbing that man aroused you, little wife. Am I right? Do you want to feel my chest rubbing against your delicious breasts as I pound into you?” He is already stroking his thick shaft and I can’t look away. I want to feel the burning when he stretches me, but his rough words make me close my thighs instinctively.

 

“Open!” His commanding voice makes me tremble, but I still refuse to obey. Before I can blink he is holding me down under the weight of his body, “I said open your thighs.” I can hear the impatience in his voice, and the words leave his mouth slowly as if he is talking to a rebellious child.

 

His forearms rest on either side of me and when I still refuse to comply, he brings one of his hands to lock around my neck holding me still to merely endure his assault. I can feel his heart thrumming in his chest as furious as my own. He groans when I try to arch my back against him.

 

His hand leaves my throat and I cough. It seems my reaction amuses him. His fingers dig into my thigh, raking their way across the length of it until Ivar grasps behind my knee. He holds my thigh around his waist, teasing me with his cock and I wrap my other leg around him, willing and seeking more friction, “That was not to so difficult, huh?” He breaths heavily through clenched teeth, “You’re so wet.” He sibilates his words smoothly.

 

I feel Ivar guiding himself to my entrance with one of his hands as he doesn’t need to hold my legs anymore. I’m seeking his invasion. He probes my entrance with his swollen tip, and I moan in impatience. He feeds me a little more of his cock but pulls out again. My hands are pulling out my hair in frustration. When I look up at him he is smirking.

 

“Oh, Ivar. Please!” I mewl, blinking my teary eyelashes.

 

I suppose Ivar had enough and is as thirsty as I am. He finally slides into me with a grimace. He expands me, filling me with his girth. I gasp at the feeling of fullness. It almost hurts, but I welcome the soreness. I want to feel it for days after he is gone.

 

I clench onto his shoulder, feeling the muscles through his tunic as he moves. He brings his sweaty forehead to mine and I smile at him. He draws his torso away from me and I bring both my hands to his waist, afraid he will pull back. He laughs, “You like my cock inside of you, huh? You’re squeezing me so tight.”

 

Ivar takes off his tunic and I groan at the sight of his torso and arms, his skin is glistening with sweat. I run my hands over his toned stomach and he howls, leaning down to suck my nipples while his hips keep slamming into me in a punishing pace. I can only let out high-pitched whines. My hands are slipping on his sweaty back and I dig my nails into his skin trying to hold myself. Ivar looks at me with a devilish grin pulled at his lips. He retreats from me and I cry out.

 

He burst into laughter and I want to slap him, “It’s all yours. All you have to do is ask nicely and I’ll give it to you.” He slaps my clit with his cock and I try to close my thighs involuntarily, “Open your thighs or I will.” His voice is husky as he squeezes my tender flesh.

 

As soon as I open my thighs, Ivar gathers saliva in his mouth, spitting on my entrance. I’m astonished by his action, but I can’t move as he brings his palm to fondle my mound. I put aside the idea of complaining about what he did when my hips jerk seeking for more contact with his fingers.

 

He keeps running his fingers languidly through my lower lips. Back and forth with a steady rhythm that my hips are soon mimicking. Ivar inserts two of his thick and calloused fingers inside of me, twisting until he finds a spot that makes me curl my toes and roll my eyes. I don’t know how much more I can endure his punishment. I can feel my climax approaching, but it looks like my torture won’t end soon. Ivar is patient tonight. He retreats his fingers, inserting his digits into his mouth to suck.

 

I crawl backward to lean against the headboard while Ivar is savoring my arousal. Taking advantage of his distraction, I slid my hands between my thighs. My arousal is soaking my fingers and it’s easy to drag them back and forth and I even dare to give my clit soft slaps. As Ivar did on our wedding night.

 

I press my lips together to muffle the sounds that are threatening to leave my mouth. I know Ivar won’t like to see me touching myself. I’m feeling the tight bundle of pressure in the pit of my groin growing stronger and I toss my head back against the headboard.

 

I’m so involved in seeking my pleasure that I don’t feel the bed shifting under his weight. Not until he takes hold of my ankles with his big hands. Ivar pulls me to him and I’m dazzled, watching his hairy thighs as he kneels between my legs, “Don’t touch what is mine, woman.”

 

“Then don’t neglect what is yours,” I reply stubbornly and Ivar roars, sinking inside of me.

 

I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck, caressing his shiny and thick hair. My fingers tangle in at the nape of his neck and I give it a little tug when his thrusts start to speed up. He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes and smiles like a beast.

 

My heart skips a beat when Ivar buries his teeth into my shoulder. It’s enough to send me over the edge and I feel my cunt squeezing him. His face is tense, and I see the vein on his neck pulsing. It’s like I’m the one torturing him now. When I come out of my stupor Ivar is still relentless, pummeling his way into me repeatedly. I try to push him because I’m too sensitive, but he takes my wrists in one grip, pinning them down above my head.

 

“Look at you… taking my cock all the way inside your greedy and tight pussy.” He barks, and I feel hot tears leaking from my eyes, which Ivar promptly licks.

 

I’m spamming with a new wave of pleasure that Ivar is forcing out of me. At least I’m not drowning alone as Ivar is hovering over me and grunting. I close my eyes until he barks.

 

"Don't you dare take your eyes off of mine." His nostrils are flaring as his eyes dance over my face and his grip around my wrists tighten.

 

I obey and soon he is throwing his head back and filling me with his seed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her back is pressed against my chest and I’m surprised she hadn’t run to clean herself yet.

 

“As much as I like the sins you have in mind, I prefer when you sin in actions.” I practically purr in her ear, enjoying the sight of Blaeja shivering. She slaps my hands away from her, sitting on the bed and glaring at me.

 

“It was you. How dare you? What did you do to Father Cuthbert?” Her eyes are narrowed in anger and disbelief.

 

“I didn’t kill him if this what you’re implying.” I cock my eyebrows and she pouts, “He ran so fast as soon as I entered the Church.” I laugh.

 

“Those words were not meant for your ears…” She spits, and I interrupt her.

 

“You are sharing your intimate thoughts with a stranger and not your husband, huh?” I retort with a snarl, and Blaeja releases a heavy sigh.

 

“Trust can’t be forced, Ivar. You must earn it.” She huffs, turning on her back to glare at the ceiling as tears stream down from the corner of her eyes.

 

“You’d rather trust the judgment of a man that doesn’t know women than talk to me…” I accuse her, sounding more exasperated than I would ever want her to notice. Even hurt.

 

“And you… Do you understand women better because you took many maidens?” She asks me warily, still not facing me.

 

When Blaeja, at last, turns her face to me, I see the consequences of my actions. She is a mask of grief, loss, and devastation. It is the face of a woman who had suffered before and doesn't know if she can endure it any longer. Then, just when I think the walls will come down and she will trust me with her vulnerability, she frowns at me, “Is there anything that you hold holy?” Her words are croaked, and I watch penalized how her chin trembles.

 

“There is one thing,” I mutter, surprising myself. My heart pounds in my ears and I wonder if she can hear it as clearly as I am. I hope not, for I can’t bear my wife thinking I’m some inexperienced boy affected by fluttering eyelashes.

 

Blaeja stares blankly at me. It looks like as if she will say something; her lips opening slightly, then closing. I don’t dare to say a word. She is right; I can’t read her. As none of us is brave enough to say anything else, she shakes her head, turning her back to me. I don’t dare to embrace her against my chest for the first time. I hate to admit, but I know a new rejection would be devastating. I just don’t know if to my heart or my pride.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sun had not risen yet, but we must prepare as quickly as possible to surprise our enemies and I don’t want to wake her. She is so peaceful after the despair I saw on her face the night before. I felt she was truly giving herself to me, but I had to say I’ve heard her secrets.

 

Why did I have to show I had the upper hand? Why did I have to be so eager for Blaeja to open herself to me without schemes? I fear I ruined everything as I watch her silky black hair spread on the pillows and curl my fingers into fists not to touch her. I can’t keep watching her otherwise I will fail.

 

I’m struggling to put on my mail shirt when I feel a gentle touch on my back, “Let me!”

 

I turn to look at her and my heart skips a beat. Her disheveled hair is cascading down around her shoulders and down her back. The thought I'm the only man who will ever watch her like this makes my stomach tighten. Her sleepy eyes are focused on the task to help me to dress. I lift my hand to her flushed cheeks and she sighs, stopping the movement of her hands for a moment.

 

Blaeja presses both her hands on my chest when she finishes, and I don’t know what she is doing until she draws a sign on my heart. The cross. She drew the Christian cross on my chest.

 

“What are you doing?” I whisper, and she looks up at me with a smirk.

 

“I’m calling Thor’s strength upon you, so you will strike our enemies.” Her eyelids flutter and I grin at her.

 

“Thor?” I laugh, holding her face, “I don’t think you should lie to your husband.” I lean down until our foreheads are connected, and she holds on my upper arms. Our noses are touching as we breath the same air until I remember something.

 

“I have something for you.” I turn to the small table and press the necklace in her hand.

 

“What is this?” Blaeja inspects the object with narrowed eyes and I feel my heart fluttering at her curiosity.

 

“It’s a rune for protection.” I hope she will use the gift for I know that while I’m away she is vulnerable to the schemes of those who might be plotting against us.

 

Her jaw drops for a moment as she runs her fingers through the pattern I craved in whalebone, “It’s so beautiful.” Blaeja glances up at me with a coy smile, “Thank you.” She makes a motion to put the necklace on and I hold her wrist, “Let me!” Blaeja nods approvingly and holds her hair to the side, turning her back to me. When I finish fastening the necklace, I press a soft kiss on her neck. I smile against her skin when Blaeja tilts her head to one side because of the tickles my beard causes her. Listening to her giggle is like the sun shining through stormy dark clouds.

 

“What will you do while I’m away?” I query her gently, embracing her tightly from behind and resting my chin on the top of her head.

 

“I’ll wait for you to return in one piece.” She chuckles and I kiss her hair, wishing this holds true and that both our Gods will listen to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to bring attention to the use of runes in this chapter. I took a lot of time thinking about which rune would fit better, and with @whenimaunicorn's help, I chose **[Ehwaz](http://elderfutharkrunes.blogspot.com.br/2010/11/ehwaz.html)** for Ivar to draw on her forehead and [Algiz](http://elderfutharkrunes.blogspot.com.br/2010/11/algiz.html) for her necklace, which means: Caring and protecting of each other and the relationship.  
>  **Keywords  
> **  
>  Protection; sheltering yourself and others, holding onto what has been rightfully earned [...]  
>  **Ehwaz**  
>  **Relationship Interpretation**  
>  Brings harmony to relationships; partnerships; joint efforts; sexuality between partners.
> 
> In respect to the Ehwaz rune’s connection with the horse, it is not an impersonal energy source, but rather a living, breathing being whose needs and desires must be taken into consideration, rather than to be simply used as a tool or slave. This rune reminds us to only use the horse for its help and never to harm it. The horse is to be respected and cared for, rather than used and neglected.
> 
> Ivar and Blaeja have been dealing with their emotional rollercoaster with sex, but her restrictive education has been leaving her feeling used when they are done. Even though the Catholic Church not always condemned (in fact they encouraged the man to make his wife have an orgasm believing it would help with the conception) couples having pleasure together, but I have to remind that Blaeja is not married to Ivar with the blessing of the Church. So, technically, she is sinning.
> 
> Within the Ehwaz rune we see a duality. Ehwaz comes to represent the duality of man and his ability to deal with his world. It sees one making choices; weighing up options before proceeding.
> 
> Ehwaz symbolises masculine and feminine qualities and energies and encourages one to use both sides of their personality, both male and female, masculine and feminine. Ehwaz is finding balance.
> 
> The stallion and mare aspect come into play within the interpretation of Ehwaz. The stallion is headstrong and virile and is the epitome of raw energy. He looks to face the world head-on and on his own terms. The stallion is a powerful tool, but must be carefully controlled and maintained to avoid harming it, yourself and/or others. Balance must be achieved to harness the power of the stallion and use it wisely.
> 
> The mare symbolises fertility, femininity and the intuitive instincts. She is a creature that works with others and often looks for guidance before acting. Ehwaz is telling us that sometimes we must lead – but to be a good leader, we must know how and when to follow. 
> 
> Drawing Ehwaz in a reading may indicate that you need to make new connections. Doing this will draw the energies towards you that will help you to overcome all obstacles before you. Ehwaz’s advice is to seek out those who share your views, attitudes and lifestyle. Remember that each person who comes into your life, for however long, comes to teach you lessons and vice versa.
> 
> Name: Ehwaz, “horse.” Phoneme: E (long and/or short). Meaning: trust, faith, companionship.
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Runes and Meanings](https://norse-mythology.org/runes/the-meanings-of-the-runes/)  
>   
> 
> As a Christian woman, Blaeja would seek the Church's advice, but she is also worried that her revelations might lead to conflicts between her and his people. The poor girl is alone with her worries and she doesn't trust Ivar enough to share the burden.
> 
> The biblical passage of Ruth's life that could have helped Blaeja after the confession is **[here](http://biblehub.com/ruth/1-16.htm)** and **[here](https://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Ruth)** you can find out more about Ruth.
> 
>  __  
>  **"Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God."**  
>  Women held an important role during the early stages of Church. 
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Women in Medieval Church](https://christianhistoryinstitute.org/magazine/article/women-in-medieval-church-timeline)  
>  You can know more about the procedures of confession in Catholic Church **[here](http://www.catholic.org/prayers/prayer.php?p=1778)** , **[here](http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/13785a.htm)** and ****[here](https://www.thoughtco.com/making-a-better-confession-542846)
> 
> Back to the Viking Culture. I used [this ](http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/manufacturing/text/viking_mail.htm)article as reference about warrior clothing.


	9. Did you miss me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja faces an inner turmoil as she treats Ivar's injuries. He tries to understand her feelings for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Blaeja was sitting on a stool in front of him, her warm breathing was tickling his skin while she was stitching his wound with silk thread. Ivar watched her mouth slightly open as her eyes were totally focused on the task. He wondered if her mind was as tormented by questions as he was. She was silent since he arrived from battle and Ivar couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. For the first time in his life, he was afraid, terrified even. He longed for Valhalla and for his name to live long after he died, but he craved her as well. Ivar doubted the mead in Odin’s Hall would taste as sweet as her lips.

 

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, diving into the gentleness of her touch. The softness of her fingertips against his rough skin was calming, but he flinched on purpose to see her reaction.

 

Blaeja looked up at him at last, lowering her eyebrows what made Ivar laugh, waiting for her to return his gesture. He felt confused when she pursed her lips and looked down again to finish her task with less gentleness.

 

“Ouch. You’re hurting me, wife. What did I do to you?” Ivar whispered against her hair.

 

Blaeja said nothing and kept stitching his wound. Ivar noticed she was breathing heavily and her fingers were trembling now. He kept his mouth shut while she carefully rubbed ointment over the wound.

 

She reached for the clean bandages that were lying beside him on the bed and Ivar took the chance to exhale deeply, drowning in the floral scent of her hair. He noticed his action didn’t pass unnoticed since Blaeja moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Ivar grinned but had to hide it because she stood up between his legs to wrap the bandages around his chest. During her ministrations, she avoided his piercing gaze.

 

Ivar had to hold on the furs not to grab her waist right there, mentally telling himself to be patient not to push her away. He was contemplating her hips moving while Blaeja walked to a table where she picked a fresh cloth and moistened it in clear water from a bowl.

 

Blaeja made her way back to him, feeling his gaze burning on her skin. She tenderly cleaned his bloody face, her left hand holding onto the side of his head as her right hand made its way across his face. Eventually, she ended up next to his lips. She gulped as he looked at her intensely. There was a small cut next to his lip and it was swollen. Someone was daring enough to punch him in the jaw.

 

_Someone who is most likely dead now._

 

Blaeja started moving her fingertips softly over his lower lip, hardly touching and yet it was enough to make his heart beat like a hammer against his ribs.

 

“Thank you,” Ivar mumbled, sending vibrations that traveled through her fingers to her spine.

 

She inhaled sharply and awkwardly looked away, retreating her hand from his face, feeling confused by his appreciation. He had _never_ said those words to her before. _Why is he being gentle?_

 

Ivar took hold of her wrist before Blaeja could walk away. She lingered a little, self-conscious of how close they were. Ivar wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her body closer and burying his head between her breasts. Blaeja felt her jaw trembling and drew a few shaky breaths, lifting her teary eyes to the ceiling. Using her free hand, she ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

 

“I missed you!” his words were muffled but no less shocking.

 

 _Is it possible that he had truly missed me?_ Blaeja shook her head as if she could make the doubts disappear.

 

Ivar looked up at her through his eyelashes, “Did you miss me too?” he smiled faintly but it turned into a grin when she didn't answer him right away, “I know you did.”

 

Blaeja rolled her eyes, “You need to rest.” She used her fingertips to draw circles between his furrowed brows as if she was enchanting a child to sleep.

 

“I want you!” Ivar took her hand and started kissing the sensitive skin of her wrist, knowing she would feel goosebumps.

 

“Not tonight, Ivar. You're hurt and weak. I don't want you…” Blaeja replied while stroking his cheek with the back of her free hand.

 

“You don't want me. I have sad news for you. I'm back and as long as I'm alive you're mine. Either you want it or not.” He hissed through gritted teeth, releasing her.

 

Blaeja smiled sadly, “Why is it so easy for you to presume things? You're so cunning, yet not in all things. Before you so _rudely_ interrupted me, I was going to say I didn't want you to bleed until death,” She cupped his face and kissed his forehead, “To bed.”

 

“To bed?” Ivar winked, grabbing her waist once more and started pulling up her dress. His calloused fingers were desperately stroking every inch of skin that was revealed

 

“Why are you so stubborn?” Blaeja gasped, feeling Ivar reaching her inner thighs.

 

He laughed proud of himself, “When I see something I want, I don't rest until it's mine.” His tongue peeked out and Ivar moistened his lower lip.

 

Blaeja closed her eyes, throwing her head back when his fingers reached her folds that were dripping wet already.

 

“Hmm. I knew you have missed me. You can't hide it!” Ivar growled, brushing his thumb over the bundle of nerves at her entrance, making Blaeja release a shaky breath. When he felt she was ready, he entered her with one finger, bending it there to hit a special spot that never failed to make her tremble.

 

Ivar kept circling the protuberance between her folds and grinned unable to decide what he enjoyed more – her face contorted in pleasure or the sounds she was making in response. His pupils were dilated orbs within a sea of bright blue locked on her face.

 

She had to hold onto his shoulders not to collapse. Ivar was a master at reading her body and once her moans increased in volume, he slid one more finger. He established a slow pace, but as her body reacted quickly, Ivar increased the speed of the fingers buried deep inside of her in a beckoning motion. His reward came when one of her hands lifted to his head, her fingers tightening in his hair, pulling his head back. Ivar grunted in response, loving seeing her out of control.

 

A smug smirk playing on his lips as he watched the effect he had on Blaeja, the scent of her arousal was dominating his senses and running down his fingers. The vision of her breasts moving with every inhale of breath was overwhelming. He lifted the hand from her waist and started pinching her aroused nipples and this action was enough to send Blaeja over the edge. Ivar howled feeling her inner muscles gripping his fingers while her mouth was hanging open in a silent scream.

 

She would fall on the floor in front of him if Ivar hadn't taken hold of her thighs placing her on his lap. His face was glistening with sweat as he waited for her to recover from the intense pleasure. When Ivar noticed her eyelids flickering, he cupped her face with his big hand, bringing her closer. With their sweaty foreheads touching and eyes locked they never felt so connected.

 

Blaeja was stroking the back of Ivar's neck and breathing the same air. She wanted to slow down the questions that clouded her mind and enjoy the moment but his softness was so odd. One of his hands traveled to her collarbone teasing the tender flesh, while he lowered his head to her breasts licking them softly. She didn't know which sensation was more powerful, his lips licking and sucking on her nipple, the hand on her collarbone or the fingers pinching the delicate skin of her thigh.

 

Blaeja braced herself for the roughness she felt it would come soon, yet it looked like she was sharing real intimacy with a different man. The heat within her body was turning into a tingling between her legs. She felt an impulse to release and guide his thick shaft into her. It was the only way Blaeja thought possible to show she missed him too. She worked on the laces of his breeches desperately and started stroking the velvet skin until Ivar growled.

 

“Relax,” he soothed, urging her to sink into his manhood. He pressed small kisses to her cheek, neck, the corner of her mouth as she guided his member to her entrance. Blaeja was preparing for the burning sensation of his invasion, but it didn't come. Ivar allowed her to take her time to adjust to his thickness and Blaeja was living a whole new experience.

 

It was a good kind of pain, her blood seemed to become fire inside her veins, burning its way from her head to her toes while her folds were stretching to welcome him back home. Just when she thought he would push her on the bed, covering her body with his, Ivar surprised her by lying on his back.

 

His hands flew to her hips, but she didn't mind because he was not imposing his pace. In fact, it looked like he was holding onto her as her undulating hips were waves drowning him. She wanted to tell him not to fight the sensations, but to swim with her as she did countless times when he imposed his rhythm. The friction was motivating Blaeja to take him deeper into her and ripping loud moans from the bottom of her throat.

 

He kept watching her face as she tried different angles and speeds. “Is that how you like it?” he asked with adorable urgency and strange kindness in his voice when Blaeja squeezed her eyes shut, tossing her head back in ecstasy.

 

His face has gone slack at the feeling of her inner walls massaging him and Blaeja bit her lips, digging her nails into the firm muscles of his stomach. Her name fell from his lips almost like he was sending a prayer to one of his Gods. She collapsed, burying her face on the crook of his neck and Ivar felt tears mixing with his sweat. He changed to a sitting position and embraced her shaking figure, rocking her back and forth while one of his hands was caressing her head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her face is pressed against his chest while Ivar is drawing circles on her back. His touch is almost making her sleep until a question startles her, “Why were you crying?” his chest reverberating the words and sending vibrations to her cheek.

 

She remains silent until Ivar lifts her chin with his hand, “Tell me!” his face is calm, matching the tone of his voice but Blaeja is still suspicious.

 

 _Why does he care? There is only one thing he wished from me, and he's had it already. Is it some trick to make me believe he loves me? Why?_ Her mind is working fast and feeling his gaze on her is not helping her to answer his question properly.

 

“Blaeja?” She can sense the anxiety in his voice. He demands an immediate answer she doesn't feel ready to give him.

 

“I... We are exhausted. It's been a tough day...” She tries to move away from him, but his arms only tighten more around her.

 

“Why are you avoiding answering me?”

 

_Do I have to answer what he wants to hear? What is the truth and how much power will I give him over me if I say... if I tell him that I dreaded the list of his warmth next to me?_

 

“It's just that was so intense... having you like that...” Blaeja tells him the truth she could manage to. She asks herself if half a truth is the better option.

 

Ivar mutters something she doesn't understand, releasing her. Blaeja looks at him confused because she thought he would be proud he was able to please her, even though she feels like she had conquered her pleasure this time.

 

She turns her back to him and remains awake for a long time, attentive to his breathing. The guilt is like acid in her chest, depriving her of a peaceful rest. She is aware that he might be as disturbed as herself. But how can she trust him when he manipulates everyone around him? How will she know he is not pretending to be hurt so she will confess her love and be even more vulnerable to him? This time not only with her body but her whole being.

 

She feels the tightening in her chest and her lips trembling. Blaeja presses her lips together because she doesn't want to cry again. His breathing is steady now and she thinks he is asleep until his powerful arm grabs her waist, pulling her closer. He groans in her ear making her smile, feeling less conflicted because he is back to his old possessive and demanding self, which she grew used to handle with. Now she is relaxed to sleep.


	10. I Can Be Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events portrayed in this chapter happens a few months after their wedding.

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar was impatient to have Blaeja all for himself. Instead of the annoying voices of his brothers, it would be her sweet moaning against his neck. He could see she was as eager as him. That little smile on her full lips every time he looked at her. It was always a promise of a pleasant evening.

 

Since their wedding night, Ivar never ceased to be amazed by her endurance, courage, wit, and passion. He had never expected her to be willing to him or to find pleasure when their bodies were joined. But it looked like the Gods liked to play with humans, giving him a perfectly craved woman from the blood of his father's killer. Her kindness and beauty were enough to make Ivar forget who was her father the most part of the time.

 

Ivar smiled bitterly with the memory of how he thought he would force Blaeja until she cried in pain. Looking at her now he regretted it.

 

While he was deep in his thoughts, Blaeja rose to her feet, announcing she was tired and going to bed. Ivar watched her walking away swinging her hips suggestively. He looked around exasperatedly to check if his brothers had noticed her moves. Ivar couldn't wait to punish her for displaying what was meant only for _his_ eyes.

 

“You must go with her, brother! We are clearly annoying you.” Ubbe teased.

 

Hvitserk laughed, “I'm sure she is way more entertaining than us.”

 

Ivar grunted, following her.

 

________

 

Ivar captured her hips when she was opening the door to their chambers.

 

She jumped and chuckled surprised, “You scared me!”

 

Ivar started kissing her neck and pulling her closer to his chest. He tangled her legs around him and Blaeja enlaced her arms around his neck on her own volition. Blaeja was kissing his face as her fingers caressed his thick hair.

 

When Ivar was almost shoving her down on the bed, Blaeja looked at him with doe eyes, “Be gentle!”

 

Ivar laughed, “But we both know you like it rough,” he searched for any sign of a joke in her eyes, but she was serious, “Are you feeling well?” Ivar sat on the bed with Blaeja on his lap.

 

She smiled and started caressing his beard, “I'm feeling good, you can make me feel even better. Please, be gentle! We must be careful!” She leaned forward and started rubbing their noses together in a display of affection that made Ivar's heart beat faster.

 

Ivar laughed, pulling up her hair to look at her face, “Why do you want gentleness? Have you learned something new from another man?” Ivar hissed through clenched teeth.

 

Blaeja was trembling in his arms and Ivar knew he had gone too far. His eyes dropped and Blaeja cupped his face to make him look at her. He gasped seeing she was crying.

 

“W-why do you doubt me? Have I give you any reason to be suspicious?” her voice was just a whisper.

 

Ivar opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came, “You're always so eager to offend, but when you need to make amends it seems like you can't speak.” She was struggling to break free from his strong arms.

 

“I-I…” Ivar muttered.

 

Blaeja raised her eyebrows waiting for him to finish. When he stayed silent, she pressed her lips together and cleaned her tears with the back of her hand.

 

“I'm tired!” Blaeja complained and Ivar knew she was not only talking about physical exhaustion.

 

“I'm sorry, _minn kona._ ” He tried to touch her face, but she looked away with her chin trembling.

 

Ivar brought her to his neck and embraced her tight. His hands were caressing her back and her hair, “Shh! It's okay! I'm an idiot! You married an idiot!”

 

Ivar started kissing her hair and a strangled whimper escaped her throat, “I will be gentle!”

 

Blaeja looked up at him, tears were running down her flushed cheeks, “Do you promise me?”

 

“I promise,” Ivar whispered cleaning her face with his thumbs.

 

Blaeja smiled and took one of his hands to press it against her stomach.

 

Ivar tilted his head in confusion, but her smile was everything it took for him to understand what she was trying to say.

 

“Are you sure?” Ivar didn't look at her face, he was distracted looking at their joined hands.

 

“It's early days, but I'm sure.” She muttered.

 

He looked at her and saw she was skeptical about him, “A-are you happy?” She was still trembling. Ivar stared at Blaeja, gauging her uncertainty. His heart sank when he realized he caused her to doubt his feelings.

 

“I'm the happiest man alive. I promise I'll control my temper. I'll care for you and the baby. I can't wait to hold him in my arms and take him to the train yard...” Ivar couldn't stop talking.

 

Blaeja laughed, startling him, “What?” Ivar asked.

 

“It will take time for you to train him to be a savage, and besides, we don't even know if it's a boy, it might be a girl.” Blaeja objected.

 

“Woman! It is a boy, I worked hard,” he joked and grabbed her ass, “Savage? I think you like this savage.” Ivar started moving Blaeja on his lap.

 

She could feel his erection and gasped, “I think I worked as hard as you to make the baby.”

 

Ivar smirked, “I'm not sure about it. I need a reminder.”

 

Blaeja was biting her lower lip and took advantage of his distraction to push him against the bed. Her long hair brushing over his face, “I'm more than willing to show you I can be challenging too.”

 

Ivar nodded and licked his lips. Before the end of the evening, he knew they worked together to create the life within her, and Blaeja learned that Ivar could be gentle too.


	11. I Want To Be Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja is heavily pregnant and doubting Ivar's love.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Blaeja asked herself if one day she would get used to the different accent and faces in her father's hall. It was no longer Aella’s hall, Northumbria was no longer her family's and yet, it was. If they stayed in Northumbria, her unborn child – that Ivar hoped it would be a son – would inherit her ancestral home.

 

That night was particularly disturbing. Hvitserk brought a new slave to the feast and was being touchy with her for everyone to see. Blaeja was penalized by the girl's misfortune, but it was possible to see that she had found a way not to suffer more than necessary. While she was passing behind them to serve mead, Hvitserk would grab her ass, making her giggle. Blaeja wouldn't feel annoyed if Hvitserk was the only looking at the girl. But Ivar grinning during the whole ordeal was making her blood boil.

 

Her eyelids were heavy and her swollen belly was making it difficult to move and sleep. Every time Blaeja thought she had found a comfortable position to sleep in, either she needed to use the privy or Ivar's arms around her waist made difficult to breathe. She couldn't wait to give birth and carry her child in her arms.

 

She rose to her feet when, for the third time, Ivar slapped Hvitserk's head chuckling, “I'm going to bed now!” Blaeja said curling her lips.

 

Ivar watched her walking away and thought about how much his life has changed. He would soon be a father and it was odd to think the reason for this new found happiness was his enemy's daughter.

 

“I think you should go after her, brother.” Ubbe touched Ivar's shoulder and looked at him with a pained expression, “she didn't look like enjoying you grinning at the new girl.” This time Ubbe whispered against Ivar's ear.

 

“I was not smiling at the new girl! I just find interesting that Hvitserk can get excited so easily.” Ivar replied swallowing the rest of his mead, “Do you think she is angry at me?” Ivar asked feeling a knot forming in the back of his throat. He had never cared about other's people opinion before, but now he felt the urge to please her in every way.

 

“Of course she is. She is carrying your child. Women tend to be sensitive when they are pregnant.” Ubbe tilted his head and Ivar smiled with pride.

 

“Yes, I suppose I should go after her.” Ivar touched Ubbe's shoulder and walked to his chambers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I knew he didn't love me, yet I have never expected it to hurt that much to watch him interested in another woman. I should hate him after all the suffering he brought to my people. Because of him, I didn't know where my brother was, because of him my father was tortured and killed. But also because of him, I felt powerful for the first time. I felt desired and even with the discomfort of being heavily pregnant, I was glowing with the thought of having a child. It was an illusion. He only wanted me to believe him enough to give him a child, a child whose claim to the throne would be both by blood and conquest.

 

I want to fight the tears that come to my eyes, but I find that they can be useful to wash away my grief.

 

I don't need his love. Either way, I'm the winner. If my brother comes with an army one day, I'll be sister to a king. If Ecgberht never comes, I'll be the mother of a king.

 

Blaeja thinks while caressing her belly and drowning in tears. She hears the door and wants to wipe away the tears not to give away her sadness for she knows who entered through the door. She can smell his scent, she would recognize the sound of his steady footsteps everywhere and in any situation.

 

Why are you here? I thought you would be having fun with your brother and that slave. I don't want to look at you right now. Blaeja senses Ivar sitting on the bed and touching her shoulder and her body trembles, betraying her.

 

 _Why it must feel so good when he touches me?_ She can't help the memories of when he used to shove her on the bed and cover her mouth with his. Only memories because in the last few months, Ivar has been avoiding her.

 

“What's wrong? Are you feeling sick? Is it time for the baby to be born?" Ivar doesn't even stop to breath between the questions that leave his mouth. Blaeja can feel the concern in his voice and - in her eyes - it proves that he only cares about the baby.

 

When she doesn't answer him, Ivar comes closer embracing her waist to caress the life they created together. His nose is buried in the back of her neck.

 

 _Even tastier when angry._ Ivar smirks against her sensitive skin. The warmth of his breathing against her neck is sending shivers from her head to her toes and Blaeja feels disappointed in herself. To fight the urge to turn around and grab his neck, she shoves his hand away and tries to move away from him.

 

“Stop it! Why are you acting so strangely?” Ivar embraces her once more, kissing her temple. When he hears Blaeja sobbing, Ivar holds his weight on his elbow to look at her.

 

“Don't cry, my love!” Ivar tries to wipe away her tears, but his wife slaps his hand away.

 

“Go back to your brothers and have fun!” her voice is strangled.

 

Ivar knows she is hurt and it makes him feel guilty, “Are you jealous of a slave?” Ivar asks, laughing.

 

“I'm not jealous and stop laughing! It's not amusing!” Blaeja tried to turn her back to him, but Ivar cups her face and kisses her nose.

 

“Yes, you're jealous. There's not a reason to be jealous.” Ivar whispers while covering her face in kisses, his mouth going south to her neck and collarbone.

 

Ivar looks up at Blaeja and she is breathing heavily. He smiles wickedly knowing that she is melting because of him. But he feels like he must refrain his impulse because of her condition. In the last few months, she has been having trouble to sleep properly and dark circles are present under her eyes. He sighs laying on his back beside her.

 

“See? I have all the reasons to worry about you giving attention to that woman. Do you remember when it was the last time you touched me?" Blaeja hisses startling Ivar. He had no idea she missed him. He thought she was relieved.

 

“But... you've been complaining you are exhausted, your feet swollen and not being able to sleep has been...” Ivar was running his fingers through his hair and pressed his lips together when Blaeja interrupted him.

 

“WHAT?” Blaeja was starting to get irritated by his words and shouted bitterly.

 

“I didn't mean to make you believe I don't desire you anymore. If I could, I would take you every night. Knowing that you're carrying our child has been increasing my love for you.” Ivar was on his side now and buried his head on the crook of her neck enjoying her new scent. He caressed her stomach and their baby started kicking to show its appreciation what made Ivar and Blaeja smile.

 

“Do... Do you love me?” she sobbed covering his hand and caressing his fingers.

 

“Of course I do love you. The fact I've been avoiding touching you is because you are exhausted. If you knew how it has been difficult not to take you.” Ivar started caressing her scalp, “I should have known that it's been uncomfortable for you too. I'll be a better husband from now on.” Blaeja smiled and nodded in approval.

 

“Do you... Do you want to...” Ivar didn't know how to ask.

 

Blaeja knew what he wanted for she shared the same need. Her answer came by grabbing his neck and bringing him to a heated kiss.


	12. Divided Loyalties

 

* * *

 

 

 

Blaeja was embroidering a tunic for the baby when a servant arrived telling her Ivar called her to the feast hall. Blaeja shook her head and sighed rising slowly from her chair. Glancing down at her stomach, now so swollen she could no longer see her toes, Blaeja thought he should know it was difficult for her to walk around.

 

Her maiden was following her closer and Blaeja wanted to yell she was not helpless, but then she remembered the woman only meant to help if she needed. Her irritation was due to her condition.

 

Once in the hall, she tried not to shout at Ivar asking what was so important that required her immediate presence. She didn’t register the young man that was standing in the middle of the room and surrounded by guards. The only thing she noticed was the concerned eyes of her husband and his brothers.

 

“What I’m needed for?” Her eyes met Ivar’s and she noticed his chest was moving with his every shallow breath.

 

Ivar walked to her with slow and deliberate steps and Blaeja felt a knot forming in her throat. It was like he would announce something terrible. Her hands descended to her belly and she felt the baby moving anxiously causing her to grimace and groan. Ivar’s hesitation faded away and in just a few giant strides, he closed the distance between them. He rested his hand on her stomach with a silent question in his eyes, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Blaeja muttered with a tiny smile that Ivar returned exhaling a breath he had not known he was holding.

 

“There’s someone here who claims to know you. I want you to tell us if it’s true.” Ivar shouted for everyone to hear and Blaeja tilted her head in confusion as Ivar used his chin to point to something over her shoulder.

 

Blaeja turned around and almost fell seeing a face she no longer hoped to see again.

 

“Ecgberht!” She ran throwing her arms around him unaware of his shocked gaze to her belly. He didn't return her embrace and remained stiff and rigid.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“But I want to talk to him. It’s been a long time…” Blaeja tried to convince Ivar she needed to talk to her brother first.

 

“I promise you will…” Ivar’s voice was calm and steady what was making Blaeja furious. She felt like he couldn’t understand her urgency or that he didn’t care about it.

 

“When?” She raised her voice interrupting him what caused Ivar to frown and look away.

 

“When I say it’s the time. You must rest. Engaging in political negotiation is not the most peaceful of actions. As you mentioned, it’s been a long time..." Ivar looked over his shoulder to where Ecgberht was talking to Hvitserk and Ubbe, “We don’t know his intentions…”

 

“He is my brother…” Blaeja spat out irritating Ivar.

 

“And you’re my wife and you will listen to me.” Ivar hissed back curling his fingers into fists to avoid touching her as angry as he was.

 

His tone made Blaeja jump lightly unleashing a tidal wave of guilt that crashed over Ivar. She closed her eyes, gulping in a painful breath.

 

“Come here!” Ivar’s voice was kind and she opened her eyes to find his features had softened and he was looking at her with utter adoration. It was something she was still not used to, but that it was becoming a norm since they found out about the pregnancy. Blaeja looked from him to the floor and was not ready to indulge herself in his touch. Ivar stepped forward hesitatingly and pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing in her scent, “If you were not with child, I would love having you with us to discuss the agreement… but it will be stressful…” he murmured with his chin resting against her head.

 

“I just wanted to help.” Blaeja replied, her voice coming out brittle.

 

“I know. You will help by taking care of yourself and our son. We will try to finish faster, so we can eat together. Would you like it, hmm?” Ivar chuckled and Blaeja raised her eyes.

 

“First of all, it might be a daughter and I enjoy this idea to destroy your cocky convictions,” She smirked causing Ivar to laugh, “Could you stop talking about food for a moment while I’m around? It looks like I’m talking to Hvitserk. If I eat everything you offer me, I’ll look like one of those big monsters from the seas.” Blaeja giggled.

 

“I’ll love catching you in my net. Even if I need a sturdy one.” Ivar winked and Blaeja punched his chest playfully and walked back to their chambers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Blaeja was sitting between her husband and Ecgberht. She was satisfied they had come to an agreement. Ecgberht would rule Northumbria with Ragnar’s sons as counselors. Blaeja knew what that meant. Her brother would not hold any power, only follow their orders. She was conflicted. As much as she wanted her lineage to prosper and Northumbria to be back to the most prosperous days, Blaeja feared it meant war and more blood being spilled. Blood of people she cared deeply. Maybe the only way for Northumbria to flourish again was to accept they should embrace the change. But part of her felt the bitter taste of defeat and the cold shiver in her spine that was like a war would always haunt her people.

 

Blaeja was sad that her brother would be only a figurative king and not the great ruler she once dreamed, but if it was the only way that he could live, she would accept as she has been doing her whole life. Acceptance, waiting and survival were words she was used to.

 

She tried to lift her brother’s spirit asking about what he had been doing during their time apart from each other, but he replied vaguely and avoided her eyes. After some failed attempts, Blaeja remained silent until Ecgberht announced he was going to his chamber because he was tired of the journey. Blaeja offered to show his chambers and Ivar glared at her brother in a silent threat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar heard Ecgberth’s sharp voice even through the closed door, “You betrayed us. You married one of them… you are even carrying his child.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s sin. You should be grateful for their offer…” Blaeja whispered and Ivar was curious to know which sin she was referring to, but she was interrupted by Ecgberht laughing in mockery.

 

“Grateful? You must be out of your mind, sister. If I can call you that yet.” Ivar wanted to slam the door open and punch the spoiled Prince, but his curiosity was winning, and he wanted to take advantage they didn’t know he was listening to know if they had some hidden agenda.

 

“I’ll always be your sister. I sent you away to protect you and I’ll keep doing this. That’s why I advise you to accept the role God invested you with…” Blaeja talked so confident that Ivar couldn’t help smiling proudly.

 

“Acceptance? Is that the word you think about when that heathen is sweating between your thighs? Hmm? Do you accept or enjoy being filled by his seed? This… this thing growing inside of you is a shame for our family. I wish you were dead instead of watching you being a whore.” His shrill voice rumbled in Ivar’s ears and his hand immediately descended to his sword. He couldn’t wait to hear Ecgberht begging for his life. The sound of a slap reached Ivar’s hears and then Blaeja’s voice raised as he never thought it was possible.

 

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know. I won’t betray Ivar and I’m not ashamed of my child. I’m not his whore, I’m his wife and you better swallow the truth as you can’t accept it. Or you can go if you want. But I won’t tolerate these insults any longer.” Ivar was impressed by her steady voice even though he knew she was hurt by her brother’s words. Ivar regretted his decision. He thought that seeing her brother would make her happy as the time for the birth of their child was approaching and Ecgberht was the only family she had left. He failed her.

 

“How dare you to slap the King of Northumbria, you prostitute.” Ecgberht shouted and Ivar slammed the door to find Ecgberht had both hands on Blaeja, gripping her upper arms, his fingers digging painfully into her covered flesh.

 

“LET GO OF MY WIFE!” Ivar howled at Ecgberht who swallowed releasing Blaeja and walking backward.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She glanced at him and saw that his hand was at his belt, resting on the pommel of his sword. His lips were a thin line and Blaeja knew he was not a man to take an offense lightly. With her head downcast, Blaeja walked to Ivar trying not to attract attention to her teary eyes. He pulled her against his chest, caging her there, his arms steel bands contrasting the smoothness of the words whispered against her hair, “Are you hurt?”

 

Blaeja could only shake her head because she felt that with the tightening in her throat her voice would fail her. Ivar stared at Ecgberht and tried to pull up Blaeja’s sleeves, “Stop it!” Blaeja squirmed to break free because she didn’t want Ivar to see the bruises she was sure he would find marking her skin. Her voice was trembling, and hot salty tears were rolling down her eyes.

 

Ivar studied her physiognomy, “P-please, Ivar. Stop it!” She clung on his tunic and placed her ears against his heart enlacing his waist with her arms the best way she could with her swollen belly between them.

 

“Shh! It's alright! I'm here.” He mumbled kissing the top of her head and rubbing circles over her back when she started sobbing.

 

“I...” Blaeja tried to reason with Ivar through her tears, but he started kissing her eyes.

 

“I'm here. No one will hurt you. Go to bed! I'll talk to your brother.” He mumbled softly to convince her.

 

Blaeja gasped realizing his intentions and searched for his eyes. Without her standing between them, Ivar would kill Ecgberht. She should do something, “I don't like to sleep alone. Come with me.” Seeing her flushed cheeks and trembling jaw while Blaeja begged for him to go with her always melted his heart. But not this time.

 

“I'll call Ubbe to escort you to our chambers. I'll be there in a few minutes...” Ivar tried to kiss her lips, but she looked down interrupting him.

 

“Please... don't do it, husband. For the love you have for our child. Don't... don't kill my brother.” Ivar felt her tears flowing and wetting his tunic while she covered the hand he had on the pommel of his sword with her own.

 

“He offended you, called you names...” Ivar looked at Ecgberht with pure hatred in his eyes.

 

“I don't care. He knows nothing about us.” She looked up at him once more and her hand traveled right cheek where she started stroking a scar, “Let's go to bed! I'll be cold without you.” Her full lips stretched into a smile but didn’t quite reach her dark eyes. Ivar thought her smile looked like one of a child determined not to weep.

 

He always loved when she referred to them as a unity. _Not you and I, but for us._

 

Blaeja noticed his jaw clenching and a vein in his neck pumping his boiled blood. She felt her own heartbeat reverberating in her ribs. “I can't... I must defend our honor.” Ivar replied.

 

Blaeja left the warmth and safety of his arms and started kneeling at his feet, “I beg you...” Ivar interrupted holding her arms and bringing Blaeja back to her feet.

 

“I'm the one begging here. I want you by my side, not at my feet. Always. I want... I need your loyalty.” Ivar brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

 

“You have it. I swear...” The certainty in her voice made something deep inside him expand with fulfillment.

 

“There's no need to swear. I believe you.” Ivar released her hand and cupped her face once more making Blaeja blink. It was like there was nobody else in the room. She forgot her brother when she rose up on her toes and laced her fingers in his thick hair trying to draw Ivar closer. Her husband smiled watching her effort to reach him and leaned down a little to meet her halfway, and his lips found hers. Her mouth moved under his and Blaeja purred making Ivar growl.

 

“As you are not going to kill me, can I rest in my own chamber?” Ecgberht interrupted their kiss and Ivar wanted to cut him in half watching Blaeja’s brothers raising his eyebrows and tilting his head. The only thing preventing Ivar to paint his face with the Prince’s blood was his wife snuggling in his arms and wrapping her arms around his waist.

 

“Don't be so sure. Blaeja won't always stand between us and if I even suspect you've been offending my wife again,” Ivar emphasized the last words to make it clear that Blaeja was not only a Northumbrian princess, “I won't show you mercy if I think you're hurting her in any way. Don't forget you own nothing here. We took Northumbria and you sit on the throne only and for how long we allow it and you have your head on your shoulders because of your sister. She is respected by the people, so I suggest you treat her as if your life depended on it, because...” Ivar grinned with mischief, “it does.”

 

Blaeja didn't need to hear a love confession and she doubted one day she would, but his words carried more than a threat to her brother, what made her tremble in fear. His words also meant he respected, trusted and, more important, he loved her. Ivar swallowed his pride for her happiness and peace of mind. She felt her heart swelling and goosebumps in her belly.

 

“Sleep well, but don't get too comfortable. There will always be one of us breathing down your neck.” Ivar leaned down to kiss Blaeja’s forehead and pulled her hand into his, lacing their fingers together as they walked away leaving a frightened boy behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her back was pressed against his chest and his robust arm was involving her belly. Blaeja couldn’t sleep but didn’t want to make Ivar worry about her and risk him unleashing his wrath upon her brother. Ivar used his fingers to brush lazy circles over her huge belly, “Blaeja?” His breath tickled the shell of her ear as he nudged her hair away with his nose. She wondered if one day his touch wouldn’t affect her. She doubted it.

 

“I know you’re awake.” Ivar pressed his lips against her neck and she sighed.

 

“Hmm?” her voice was cracking and pushed Ivar to confess something that has been troubling him since Ecgberht mistreated her.

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

Blaeja looked over her shoulder and was surprised not to find the usual playfulness and mischief sparkling in his eyes but what she could've sworn was desolation.

 

“You did nothing wrong.” She replied turning to face him.

 

“In fact, I did. I’ve been searching for your brother.” Ivar started caressing her cheek.

 

“Why?” Blaeja was astonished with this information. She thought Ivar would kill her brother if he found him. She supposed the agreement was his brothers’ idea.

 

“I assumed you would be happy to have him around when the baby came. But it was a mistake.” Ivar bit lips averting his eyes.

 

“You did this… for me?” Blaeja cupped his face to make Ivar look at her.

 

“I did, and I regret. I should have protected you, not brought you more pain.” Ivar looked down again and Blaeja snuggled against his chest as she hugged him tightly.

 

“I have no regrets. You’re my family now. You and our baby.” She kissed his chest and closed her eyes to sleep.

 

Ivar didn’t know what to say and doubted any word would serve him. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes.


	13. Making Peace With The Past

 

* * *

 

 

I feel his strong arms wrapped around me, protective as a shield. These past days it has been so difficult to sleep with my brother’s return, my anxiety to hold our baby in my arms and my fear that I will end up like my mother - Cold in a pool of her blood, after fighting for hours to bring life to the world. I remember the words she whispered, holding my hand before drawing her last breath, “Take care of your brother and your father. They will need you.”

 

What hurts me the most is that I am starting to forget her voice and face. I wonder if she would avoid giving me this instruction if she knew what was fated to happen. Would she just say that she loved me if she knew I would fail her and that her words would haunt me?

 

I tried so hard but my father would not listen. He was blind by grief and power. His pride was his downfall as usually happens to men. As almost happened to my brother when he attacked me. My once innocent brother that was used to worship me. I do not want Ecgberht adoring me like one of Ivar’s goddesses. I just want him to understand me. I want him to accept I cannot choose between him and my husband. I do not want to pick sides because I do not want sides. I want peace, especially now. I do not want death walking among us when I am about to bring a child into this world.

 

I wonder what would have happened if our mother was still alive. Would my mother be able to convince my father to be cautious with Ragnar’s sons? Would she support my decision to marry Ivar? I do not want to think much about it because if things were different, I would not be feeling the warmth of my husband's body next to me nor would I be carrying his child. Our baby.

 

Would our mother stand by Ecgberht’s side and point her finger at me? Or, as a woman, would she understand me?

 

“You must rest, _minn hjartä!_ Why are you still awake?” he presses his mouth to my neck and his hot breath makes me writhe. I can feel he is smirking against my skin.

 

“I am still awake because my husband is bothering me.” I push my hips against his groin and Ivar grunts.

 

“If you keep moving this beautiful ass against me, I will do much more than bother you.” Even knowing that he is playing with me, his threat makes me throb and it distracts me from my worries.

 

“Threats? What kind of husband threatens his poor and pregnant wife?” I giggle, feeling his beard tickling my temple.

 

“The kind of husband that loves his wife more than anything else.” I try to turn around to look at him, but my heavy belly slows me down and Ivar laughs at my clumsiness.

 

“Stop laughing! I am suffering here.” I am huffing because of the heaviness of my stomach, and Ivar helps me. The darkness does not allow me to see his face clearly. I run my fingers from his chest up to his neck and face. I love feeling his beard with my fingers. Ivar's hot breath wash against my face and I gasp, “Is that true?”

 

“What?” The bastard is smiling. I can feel the muscles of his face moving and I want to slap and kiss him. I imagine only Ivar would affect me this way.

 

“What you said… is that true?” I whisper, feeling his fingers caressing my face and mirroring my tenderness.

 

“I said many things… which one are you referring to, wife?” his chuckle dies when I smack his chest. Ivar howls, faking pain. I try to turn my back to him, but his arms capture me as a welcome cage, “I love you!” he says nothing else as he holds me close to his chest, kissing my hair.

 

 

>  

We enjoy each other’s scent and I think he is asleep when I murmur back, “I love you too. Except when the baby kicks my ribs. That is when I want to kill you.” His reply startles me.

 

“I remember you asking for my seed. Many times.” He bursts into laughter and I pinch his arm.

 

“Shut up!” I bark at him.

 

“It is so funny to provoke your rage. It has been easier since you got pregnant. I am enjoying these months. I will keep you pregnant as much as I can.” He kisses my lips and I frown.

 

“I am sure the rage comes from your child inside of me,” I smile, picturing a baby with a constant clenched jaw and an incessant cry calling for my attention, “I am glad to know you are enjoying my discomfort, pagan.” I snuggle against his chest, feeling my eyes burning with sleepiness.

 

“That is not the proper way to talk to your husband. You are lucky I cannot punish you now. But I am a patient man and the more I wait, the more delicious will be your punishment.” He moans, grabbing my ass and I am too sleepy to prolong the discussion.

 

“Promises.” I whisper, closing my eyes and the last thing I hear is his laughter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ecgberht tries to avoid me as much as possible and although part of me is hurt, I think that it is better this way. I do not know what to say to him and I am afraid he might forget Ivar's warnings and I will not be able to convince my husband to spare him one more time. Another fear hits me. The shadow of the doubt if he starts treating me with kindness out of sudden. I will always be unsure if he is being sincere and I am done with men trying to manipulate me. Not anymore. Not now that I am sure of Ivar's love.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You cannot go!” I beg with hot tears running down my face.

 

“It will not take long. I will be back in two or three days, _minn elska._ ” Ivar holds me to his chest as he prepares to go to a village with his brothers. Conflicts about lands and it seems it ended in blood.

 

“Let Ubbe and Hvitserk take care of this… I do not want to be alone. The baby might come at any moment. You promised you would stay with me when the time came…” I raise my voice, but Ivar is determined not to fight me.

 

“I know what I promised you and I will keep my word as I did with everything else. You said that I should show leadership months ago. Remember?" Ivar runs his fingers through my hair and I know he is trying to calm my nerves, “as much as I would like to stay… What kind of leader does this? I will be back in time. He takes a step back to look at me.

 

“I understand.” I sniff and Ivar smiles, kneeling at my feet. He embraces my waist, talking to our baby.

 

“I trust you will wait a little longer. Do not kick your mother while I am not around to laugh.” I smile, stroking his hair and Ivar kisses my belly.

 

“I will ride as fast as the wind to be back to you.” He rises to his feet and cups my face.

 

He puts his arms around me when I start trembling, trying not to succumb to the tears burning in my eyes. There is not a spot on my face that he does not cover with kisses. With our foreheads connected, I look into his eyes trying to memorize the exact kind of blue they carry. Then I close my eyes to concentrate on his scent and the warmth of his breath.

 

Ubbe clears his throat to make us know it is time for them to go, “We will come back soon, Princess. I cannot wait to meet my little niece.”

 

Ivar glares at Ubbe and I laugh. Ubbe has been teasing Ivar about the gender of the baby since he discovered Ivar thinks it is a boy.

 

“Sigurd and Hvitserk will stay behind to protect you if necessary,” Ivar whispers and I nod, “I love you, _Elskan mín._ ” It is always a surprise to hear Ivar saying this. Not because I doubt his feelings, but because I never thought he would admit it out loud. I smile and reach for his neck, giving him a soft kiss of farewell.

 

Ivar is on his horse riding to the gates. He glances at me over his shoulder, waving goodbye and I lift my hand to return the gesture, forcing a hopeful smile on my face. I do not want him to worry about me and risk himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I am eating in our chambers when I feel something warm running down my thighs and wetting my dress. I shake my head believing I would slow down the inevitable. My baby is coming and Ivar is not with me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It has been hours and pain wash over me as my maidens divide themselves between trying to wipe away my tears and sweat, bringing me water or food and praying. The commotion makes me nervous. I just want silence and my husband to hold my hand. It is the morning of the third day since Ivar and Ubbe left and I felt a knot forming in my throat as I think something terrible happened to them. I might be suffering to give birth to a child that will not meet a father. I pray to the Blessed Virgin hoping she will have mercy for she is a mother as well. I do not know how they pray to Frigga, so I just try to talk to her in my mind.

 

_Lady Frigga helps my husband and his men to make their way home._

 

I walk through the room to help the baby to come, but the contractions start to slow me down and I must stop to breathe from time to time. Hvitserk and Sigurd appear at the door to check on me. I dismiss them with a smile that turns into a grimace as a new wave of pain comes from my back twisting my belly. My own brother had not appeared to see how I am doing and I imagine he either does not care or he is hoping I will die with my child.

 

Thora, the midwife says it is almost time to start pushing and I start sobbing because although my chamber is crowded, I feel terribly alone.

 

I hear the door slamming and I try to lift my head to see who arrived, but my maidens are clouding my vision. Thora steps back and I still cannot see as my vision is blurred with tears. I realize it is Ivar when his long legs bring him to me in a blink of an eye.

 

“I am sorry, my love! I am here now.” Ivar kneels holding my hand and I smile despite the soreness in my muscles.

 

Ivar returns my smile leaning forward to kiss my lips, “I-Ivar… you're here.” I mutter still not believing he made it in time to see our baby's birth.

 

“Of course I am. I would never break my promise,” He looks around and noticing the chattering he shouts, “Everyone but the midwife out.” The women stop where they are, and I can see the terror in their eyes, but they do not try to discuss with him. I appreciate his initiative because now I feel more relaxed.

 

Thora says, "I will need one of them to help us. Gyda? You must stay to learn."

 

Thora looks at Ivar, “I think we should help her to get on her knees.”

 

Ivar places his arms under my armpits helping me to change for a position that will make the birth easier for the baby and me. He kneels in front of me as Thora and Gyda position themselves behind me to catch the baby. I tremble, biting my lower lip as the aching gets worse and the pain washes over me constantly now. It is like my body is opening from inside. It starts with a stretch in my ribs, going down my back and hips. I grunt when the baby's weight makes pressure at my entrance. It burns and I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes.

 

Thora keeps stroking my back and whispering encouraging words that Ivar start repeating, “We are almost there. The baby's head is showing. Just a little more and you will have your child in your arms.”

 

“I cannot! It is hurting. I am afraid.” My nails are digging into Ivar's shoulders as he holds me.

 

“You can, my love. You are doing so well. Our Prince is almost here.” He lifts one of his hands to brush away the hair from my face.

 

The knot in my muscles comes again and I breath to gather strength to push. I bellow when the head passes through my stretched womb.

 

“Just a few more pushes, Blaeja.” Thora tells me and I see Ivar smiling at me.

 

“I am so proud of you. I have never seen so much courage before. Not even from my warriors.” He leans forward to kiss my temple. I can see he is sweating and shaking too.

 

It is like I am under the water, floating in the darkness because Ivar’s coaxing words seem muffled. Yet the urge to the final push is strong and I wail, closing my eyes. Then suddenly it is like my head breaks the surface from the waters. I hear the first cry and I am overwhelmed by emotions. We won.

 

Thora calls for Ivar to cut the cord and he helps me to lay on my side not to collapse. I feel gentle hands caressing my hair and when I look up it is Gyda. My limbs are numb and I am desperate to hold my baby. When Ivar’s laughter fills the room, I do not need to hear more for I know we have a son.

 

Gyda helps me to sit and I stretch my arms for Ivar to give me our son. His body does not move as his eyes consume the little bundle lying in his arms. Tears are forming in the corner of Ivar’s eyes and my heart is full when he places the baby in my arms. So tiny and precious. I gather him close to my chest rocking him gently. I gasp as he is already snuggling and searching for my breast.

 

“So eager.” Ivar giggles.

 

Ivar’s arm is around us as a guard dog protective and possessive, and I gladly accept it. I uncover my breast and the little one takes my nipple into his mouth fast. We sit this way for what felt like ages, watching our son feeding, until Thora interrupts. “The afterbirth will be coming soon. Let the maidens bathe the child properly,” I reluctantly give the child back to Thora and look longingly after him, “Be ready to push again.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Blaeja had bathed and is now sitting against the pillows, with her head on my shoulder as I cradle our treasure in my arms. I touch his cheek and his eyes open a little. He stares blinkingly into my eyes and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and fulfillment wash over me as I stare back. I realize I was wrong and lost my whole life. Happiness is not foolishness. It is something worth dying and killing for. My father died because his pride would never allow him to accept his sons being more famous. I am not like him and the realization hits me. I want my son to achieve even more. I murmur to Blaeja, “Thank you for our son.”

 

When she does not answer me, I glance down to see that she had fallen asleep. I kiss her forehead and call for Thora to help me with the baby while I guide Blaeja to a more comfortable position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elskan mín/minn elska - my love, my darling.  
> minn hjartä - my heart.


	14. Blood Is Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaeja and Ivar are adapting to their new status as parents, while Blaeja is still remembering her past.

 

* * *

 

 

She is so pale in my arms while blood oozes from between her thighs. The warm, viscous liquid keep flowing and making her colder, never drying on her soft skin. The warmth of blood matches perfectly with the tears streaming down my cheeks.

 

“Don’t leave me. Not now, not ever. I love you.” I whisper, but Blaeja doesn’t answer me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ivar?” I turn to cup his face, gasping in surprise when I notice tears are seeping down Ivar's cheeks. His lips are as trembling as his body, while he whispers unintelligible words. I shake his shoulders trying to wake him.

 

“Blaeja?” His teary eyelids flutter, and when his vision is focused on my face, I see his eyes are bloodshot. Terror and sadness written so plainly across his beautiful face.

 

“I’m here with you. What happened, my love?” I mutter, and Ivar brings me to his chest with an urgency that is not totally strange to me, but still make me yelp.

 

“You are here. You are here.” He repeats, kissing my hair and stroking my back. I’ve never seen Ivar so desperate. I wonder what is the cause of it.

 

“I’m here.” He pulls out to look at my face and leans down to take my mouth with devotion. I smile against his lips, salty from the tears while my fingers tangle in his thick hair. When we are both breathless, Ivar buries his face into the crook of my neck.

 

We stay in silence until our son starts crying, probably hungry. Ivar lifts his head, looking at the crib. I sit against the headboard, “Can you bring him to me? He needs to feed.” Ivar nods, walking to the crib. I gasp when he turns to me, with our baby in his arms. His breeches are soaked in blood. My blood. The realization hits me. He was fearing for me.

 

I stretch my arms to hold my son. Ivar sits beside me, transfixed by the blood stains on the bed sheets.

 

“Ivar?” I touch his arm and he blinks absently, “It’s just a little blood. It will last a few days… while I recover from childbirth.” My eyes go to my baby, who is now sucking on my nipple.

 

“How many days? Don’t you think it’s too much blood?” I can’t help noticing the way he swallows hard.

 

“I don’t know for how long. It’s my first child and I think every pregnancy is different.” I lift my hand to his face, caressing his cheek. Ivar closes his eyes with a pained expression, holding my hand against his face.

 

“I’m feeling good, husband. I swear there’s nothing wrong. It’s just a little blood. I’m sure you’ve seen worse…” Ivar looks at me, his jaw hanging open for a few moments.

 

“It’s not a little blood. It’s your blood. I’ve seen blood in the battlefield… even from my wounded warriors, but I’ve never cared that much about someone else’s blood being spilled. Your blood is precious to me.” Ivar confesses, pulling me closer to him, and stretching his arms around my shoulders.

 

I lay my head against his chest, desiring nothing more than just stay here forever, breathing his scent. The now familiar warmth that is able to bring me peace and sense of safety. I can feel the vibration of his husky voice rumbling in his chest, but with his hand laying gently over my ear, I can't quite make out.

 

“What did you say?” I look up at him and his eyes are focused on our son, a proud smile are tugging at his lips.

 

“What should we name him?” Ivar tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, kissing my forehead.

 

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought I would have a child after… after my father died.” The baby is now sucking more determinedly and swallowing the thicker, yellowish milk.

 

Ivar takes a deep breath, running the fingers of his right hand against the baby’s eyebrows. The little one blinks, but doesn’t stop feeding, “He is a warrior.” Ivar chuckles, listening to our son gulping eagerly.

 

“A victor.” I mumble, admiring the strength he shows to feed and live.

 

“That’s it.” Ivar exclaims, kissing my mouth.

 

“What?” My eyes are narrowed and Ivar chuckles at my reaction.

 

“Sigtrygg. His name will be Sigtrygg. True victory. What do you think?” His enthusiasm is contagious.

 

“I think it’s perfect. Let’s see if he likes it as well.” He is rubbing his eyes, yawning, “Do you want to sleep, Sigtrygg?” The baby opens his icy blue eyes, smiling.

 

“I think we have our answer, huh?” Ivar leans down, pressing a kiss on Sigtrygg’s temple.

 

“I’m thirsty.” I don’t even have time to ask for water, Ivar is running to fill a cup for me. place my little finger in his mouth, to remove Sigtrygg from my nipple without hurting me. A little trick Thora taught me.

 

Ivar takes the baby over his shoulder, rubbing his back until he burps. He places the baby into his crib. Walking to the table, Ivar takes a linen cloth and the basin with water, coming back to the bed, "Can you sit on the edge of the bed, wife?" I freeze in shock.

 

“Do you mean to…” I tilt my head, looking from the basin to his eyes as Ivar kneels at the edge of the bed.

 

“I’ll wash you.” The determination in his voice makes me gulp. I don’t want Ivar to see me so intimately so soon after I gave birth.

 

“It’s not necessary. Call one of the maidens…” I stutter and Ivar interrupts me once more.

 

“I’m your husband and I’ll help you. I don’t want those noisy ladies around us so soon. As on our wedding morning.” He smirks at me and I let out a little huff of disapproval. But I know there is no point in discussing with Ivar when he is so determined to have what he wants. At the moment, he wants to clean my blood-smeared thighs.

 

I push up on my hands to lift my backside off the bed, while Ivar removes my nightgown. My core is aching, legs are still trembling after the struggling hours in labor. I look down and Ivar holds my chin, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. You never looked as powerful or beautiful as you do now.” His soft voice is reverberating as Ivar praises me and I burst into laughter, regretting immediately as pain takes over my lower belly. Ivar notices I’m wincing in pain, raising his eyebrows in question.

 

“I don’t feel powerful, more drained in fact.” I grin at him and Ivar sighs relieved. I reach the blood-soaked cloth placed between my legs and Ivar gasps at the sight.

 

Ivar squats before me, his coarse palm strokes the sensitive skin of my thighs. With his right hand, he reaches the basin. I open my legs slightly, so he can clean my inner thighs. Ivar is so absorbed in the task, and I’m curious about what he might be thinking. He strokes my skin gently, until the water in the basin is red. I whimper when his fingers go to my swollen folders. Ivar looks up with wide eyes.

 

“Am I hurting you?” His voice is barely a whisper.

 

“No. Don’t worry. I’m just sore.” I caress his cheek, a reassuring smile on my lips.

 

Ivar finishes the task and looks around, searching for something, “Where can I find more of those rags you used to absorb the blood?”

 

“I keep them on that box.” I point to a small box placed on the table. Ivar comes back, helping me to dress and replace the cloth between my legs.

 

Ivar changes the sheets and supports me to lay down again, “I’ll bring you something to eat.” He leans down to kiss my forehead.

 

When Ivar is walking to the door, Thora comes to see if I’m healing and feeding properly. Ivar glares at her, “There you are.” His sarcasm doesn’t pass unnoticed and I’m embarrassed with his reaction.

 

Thora replies with a grin, “Here I am. I didn’t think I was needed earlier. The mother needs to rest.”

 

Ivar opens his mouth to say something, probably an insult, “Ivar? I’m hungry!” I whine the way I know it works to make him gentler.

 

He walks off, cursing under his breath, not without looking back over his shoulder at me. Thora burst into laughter as soon as he is out of sight, “I don’t know how you endure him.” I smile back.

 

“I know. I’m sorry about that outburst. He is not always like that.” I mutter while Thora walks to the crib. She leans down, caressing my child’s cheek.

 

“It’s usually worse, huh?” She smirks, and I can't help laughing. Unfortunately, this simple action comes with a consequence. I cringe in discomfort and Thora walks back to me cautiously.

 

“Too much pain?” She presses her hand against my forehead, “No fever yet. So it seems your womb is cleaning and healing properly.”

 

I feel my eyes watering as I think about how desperate my mother should have been as she realized she was dying and leaving two children behind. I glance at the crib and tears run down my cheeks.

 

Thora lifts the covers to see if I’m bleeding in excess, “Ivar helped me to change the cloth.” I sniff, and Thora wipes away my tears with her thumbs.

 

“Have you used the chamber pot? She sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hands.

 

“Not yet. I was…” I stutter, and Thora gets to her feet, offering me her hand.

 

“I suppose you were embarrassed that your husband would see.” I nod, holding her hand. Thora slides her hand on my waist to support me better as I start walking stiffly.

 

I grunt as a burning sensation spreads on my core while I’m urinating. Thora takes a moistened rag to clean me, and help me to place the cloth and go back to bed.

 

Ivar is paralyzed with a tray on his hands, “More bleeding? We just changed the cloth.”

 

Thora shakes her head, “She is bleeding the expected amount. No more, no less. Blaeja just wanted to use the chamber pot.”

 

I look down as if I were a child caught misbehaving. I can feel Ivar watching me. I know he is disappointed that I didn’t ask him to assist me with this need.

 

“If you need me, I’ll be eating.” Thora announces, leaving our chamber.

 

“It smells so good and I’m so hungry.” I don’t dare to look at Ivar.

 

“I brought bread, goat milk, raspberries as Thora mentioned they are good for you.” Ivar places the tray on the foot of the bed, “Why are your eyes red?” Ivar takes my chin and slowly turns my face back toward his. “Talk to me.” He leans in and our foreheads touch.

 

“I just… just remembered my mother.” A sob escapes my throat and Ivar brings my head to his shoulder, allowing me to cry as much as I want.

 

“You’re safe, my love.” He whispers against my hair, stroking my back. We stay this way until Sigtrygg starts grunting. Hungry once again. Ivar and I laugh through the tears.

 

“This boy knows how to break the tension.” Ivar walks to the crib. As soon as he takes Sigtrygg in his arms, the crying ceases.

 

I'm already with my breast exposed when Ivar interrupts me, “I think you fed him this breast before.”

 

“I forgot. You're right.” I pull down my shift and Ivar places our baby in my arms. Sigtrygg wastes no time, quickly finding my nipple.

 

Ivar brings me a cup of water and helps me to drink all the content while I feed our child.

 

I'm surprised to find he is still here in the morning. I thought he would go to the train yard as soon as the sun came out.

 

He sits by my side, with the tray on his lap. Ivar starts cutting small pieces of bread with his hand, bringing the food to my mouth. I protest, “I'll eat when Sigtrygg finishes.”

 

“No! You will eat now. I can hear your stomach. I'll help you.” I open my mouth and he gently places the freshly baked bread on my tongue. Between the bites, he helps me to drink the goat milk.

 

When I finish eating, Ivar leaves with the tray and I believe he has gone to train with his brothers and warriors. When the door cracks open again, I can't suppress a surprised whimper, “You're here.”

 

“Of course I am. Where else would I be? My family is here.” He stands by my side, watching while Sigtrygg is already sleepy at my breast. His little mouth sucking lazily.

 

“I believe he had enough.” I don't have to repeat the gesture with my pinkie in his tiny mouth to remove the baby from my nipple.

 

Ivar stretches his arms and rocks Sigtrygg gently until he burps. The baby cries indignantly because Ivar woke him. It's the first time I see my husband exasperated. He tries to hand me the baby, thinking I would be more successful in soothing our child.

 

“As angry as your father, huh?” I whisper to my child and Ivar grunts.

 

When Sigtrygg sleeps again, I place him at my side, on the bed. Ivar lies down, holding me against his chest and we drift to sleep. I imagine he is exhausted as well, after riding without stopping to arrive on time to be with me as our son came to the world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as I can walk around, Ivar decides it's time to name and recognize our child before our people.

 

The hall is crowded and noisy and I struggle to calm the baby. I try rocking him back forth and singing lullabies. Ivar lifts his hand, shouting, “Enough.” Everyone stops to look at him.

 

“As you all know, my wife gave birth to a child six days ago.” He rises to his feet, placing his hand on my shoulder and smiling down at us, “A healthy and strong son. Our heir.” This said I notice Ivar glaring at my brother.

 

I hand Ivar the baby and the gyðja gives him a bow with water. Ivar sprinkles some drops on our baby's face and he squirms in protest, “His name will be Sigtrygg Ivarsson.” The crowd erupts in cheers and Sigtrygg cries again. Ivar places him in my arms.

 

“He must be starving. Go to our quarters, _minn hjärta_.” Ivar shifts closer, kissing my temple.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I'm feeding Sigtrygg when Ecgberht walks in, “Sister? Can I talk to you?”

 

I glance at him warily, “If you came to discuss, you better go away before Ivar notices you're here.”

 

“I don't want to fight. I couldn't win anyway, huh?” My brother grins, coming closer. I'm saddened that we react this way around each other. I have never wanted to doubt him, but as Ecgberht hovers over me, I can't help feeling a shiver running down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stands out.

 

“What do you want, Ecgberht?” I keep my eyes on him as I get to my feet, trying to put some distance between us but without alarming him I'm afraid.

 

“I want to see my nephew… maybe hold him for a moment.” He tilts his head, trying to look at Sigtrygg’s face.

 

“Do you want to see the child of a whore?” I clench my teeth as I recall all the insults Ecgberht threw at me and my family.

 

“I apologize. I was not thinking. Now I see all the sacrifices you endured to keep me safe.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. I notice the way his hands tremble and I want to believe his good intentions, but I can't risk my child’s life.

 

“You didn't come when I was giving birth. Even Ivar's brothers asked about me.” Sigtrygg finished feeding and I place him over my shoulder.

 

“I was afraid…” his voice is as trembling as his lips, but I won't falter.

 

“You were afraid? How do you think I felt.” my brother looks at me through teary eyelashes and I remember how he was always following me around as soon as he started walking and always in my bed whenever he had a nightmare. Those moments were buried in the past. I could only look forward from now on.

 

“I was terrified…I thought I would die as mother and I didn't know if Ivar would come back to care for our baby.” I hiss through clenched teeth as the images come back to my mind.

 

“I'm sorry, Blaeja.” He confesses, running his hands through his hair.

 

“When our mother was giving birth to you, I was with her all the time. I saw her pain and I wiped away her tears and sweat. I held you in my arms before father entered the room. Our mother begged me to keep you from harm when she realized her death was near.” I tell him for the first time what has been haunting me since the Viking invasion. Not being able to keep my promise to the woman I loved the most. The woman I still love.

 

Tears run down his face and it takes a monumental effort not to walk to my brother and wipe away as I did many times when he was a child.

 

“Can…can I hold him?” Ecgberht begs. I feel a lump in my throat. I look from my sleeping baby to my brother and I can't bring myself to hand him my son.

 

“I don't think you should…” I whisper, walking to the door when his voice stops me.

 

“You or your husband? Will you allow him to order you?” Ecgberht smirks, raising his eyebrows.

 

“I won't. I agree with my husband. I have to think about my child now. I'm sorry, brother. I love you and I'll always try to protect you… unless your actions put my son in danger.” I walk out the door, biting my lower lip not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"In mythology, strawberries are connected to the Norse goddess of love, Freyja. The spirits of children would enter the afterlife by hiding in strawberries that are taken to heaven by Frigga."**  
>  **[Berries as symbols and in folklore](http://www.fruit.cornell.edu/berry/production/pdfs/berryfolklore.pdf)**  
>   
>  "By the European middle ages, raspberry was recognized as a favorite women’s tonic, being used to soothe many of the complaints of the fertile years. Wealthy medieval Europeans used raspberry for food and as a pigment as well. **In early Christian artwork, raspberries were used to symbolize kindness. Raspberry’s red juice invoked the energy of the blood, which runs from the heart and carries love, nutrition, and kindness through the body**. In Germany, raspberry was used to tame bewitched horses by tying a bit of the cane to the horse’s body. [...] Various first nation tribes of Northern America used raspberry to soothe labor pains, ease contractions, and ease nausea."  
>   
>  **[Raspberry History, Folklore, Myth, and Magic](https://www.thepracticalherbalist.com/holistic-medicine-library/raspberry-myth-and-magic/)**


	15. Demons and Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is a mess with a lot of time jumps because I've been filling the gaps little by little.
> 
> The events described here take place two years after Sigtrygg's birth.

Sigtrygg couldn't sleep without Ivar telling him a story about the Gods. He was used to falling asleep hearing Ivar's tales. Blaeja was impatient with the boy that kept moving.

 

“Close your eyes to sleep. Your father is busy talking to King Edmund. It's an important conversation.” Blaeja whispered while stroking the boy's eyebrows.

 

“I want to know how Thor dressed as a woman…” Blaeja wanted to laugh watching the boy pouting his lips.

 

“Tomorrow night. Your sister is sleeping, and you should give the example and rest as well.” Sigtrygg tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows as a sign he doubted his mother.

 

“How do you know she is sleeping? You can't see her!” Sigtrygg placed his small hands on Blaeja’s belly trying to feel the baby moving.

 

“Are you feeling something?” Blaeja touched his fingers and smiled at her son.

 

“No!” the boy looked from her stomach to her face with a worried expression.

 

“That's how I know she is sleeping.” Blaeja kissed his forehead.

 

“How do you know the baby is a girl? Faðir says it's a boy…” Sigtrygg kept rubbing her swollen belly.

 

“Your father was right about you being a boy. Now it's my turn.” Blaeja laughed.

 

“Please, Móðir! Let's see if Faðir finished talking to that King.” The boy started caressing her face.

 

“I see that there's no way you're going to sleep without talking to Ivar. You know your father doesn't like being interrupted…” Blaeja raised her eyebrows warning her son.

 

“I know, Móðir. We can enter quietly as if we were going to scare him. If he is still talking to that Christian we come back and I promise I'll sleep.” The boy was serious and Blaeja chuckled thinking about how much he looked like his father. It was like talking to her husband, especially the disdain when he mentioned King Edmund.

 

“Fine. But we do have a deal.” Blaeja replied as serious as Sigtrygg has talked to her.

 

She used one of Ivar's cloaks to cover her nightgown and took her son's hand. While they were walking to the hall Sigtrygg couldn't stop talking about how Ivar was the best storyteller.

 

“Thor is my favorite God. He is as strong and powerful as Faðir.” Sigtrygg was jumping excited to hear another tale from his father’s mouth.

 

Blaeja felt a knot forming in her throat. Her son was a pagan. He was being raised by her to be a heathen. When Ivar was not around, she had talked a little about Jesus, the apostles and some biblical stories, but he had not shown much interest. She wondered if it was that important that he was growing to believe in Odin, Frigga, Thor, Loki and many others, instead of her God. She loved him and Ivar fiercely. As soon as he came out of her womb, Blaeja forgot all the pain and was hypnotized by the small creature that changed her world forever.

 

When they reached the doors, Blaeja heard a little commotion and thought they had finished and were celebrating an agreement with mead as they always did. She smiled and pushed the door open. What she saw made her heart sank and her hands tremble. The only reaction she managed to demonstrate was to hide Sigtrygg behind her back. 

 

“Your wife.” One of Ivar's warriors shouted at him and Ivar looked at her from over his shoulder.

 

Ivar's laughter died in his throat and he dropped his bow. He made a motion to walk to her. Blaeja felt her mouth dry, shaking her head. She started walking backwards and dragging their son with her. 

 

“Móðir? What's happening? I want to talk to Faðir.” Sigtrygg was trying to break free from her grip but Blaeja was resolute not to allow his innocence to be ruined.

 

===========

 

She was lying on her side caressing her sleepy son's face and feeling the warmth of tears running down her face when the door cracked open. She didn't need to look to know who was there. 

 

He was breathing slowly and stopped at the door looking at Blaeja and Sigtrygg laying in bed. His family, the most important thing in his life. Ivar knew she was not sleeping for he noticed the tension on her shoulders. If it was any other night, he would slip under the furs and hug her tight against his chest enjoying the floral scent of her hair. But he knew she was angry at him. He would explain why he did what he did. 

 

 _She will understand. She must!_ Ivar thought while walking to their bed as silent as possible not wanting to wake Sigtrygg.

 

When he pressed his body close to her, Blaeja tried to move away from him. Ivar held her chin and tried to make her look at him.

 

“I know you are angry. I can explain.” Ivar caressed her cheek and noticed she was stiffening. It hurt him to know she was disgusted by his touch.

 

“Can’t I touch my wife?” he whispered through clenched teeth.

 

“Will you kill me too, Ivar? If I say I still believe in God… Will you kill me then?” her voice was as trembling as her mouth.

 

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Ivar's lips were pressed together, and he was now holding his weight with his elbow to look at her.

 

“You tortured King Edmund because he was Christian. I know what I just saw. Using him as a target…” she started sobbing.

 

Ivar tried to bring her to his chest, but her fists were pushing against his chest and Ivar sighed defeated.

 

“You don't know what happened…” Ivar felt his face getting warm and his nostrils were flaring.

 

“Then tell me! I need to know why you did that monstrous… dishonorable thing…” Blaeja starred caressing her belly feeling the baby moving more than normal.

 

“Dishonorable?” Ivar yelled startling her and making Sigtrygg move still asleep. He noticed the effect of his actions and breathed slowly to calm down, “what is the first duty of a man?” he looked at her with his features soft now and Blaeja felt her heartbeat slowing down.

 

“To protect his family.” She whispered looking in his eyes. Ivar smiled and started wiping away her tears.

 

“That's right. You know we took Edmund’s castle by surprise, but you don't know why, right?” 

 

Blaeja shoke her head and Ivar proceeded, “He was plotting against us. That's why I brought Sigtrygg and you with me after the victory. I couldn't risk leaving you alone and vulnerable.”

 

“How do you know he was planning something against us?” Blaeja felt warm that he was concerned about their well being.

 

The word us never ceased to amaze him. He was overcome with joy whenever Blaeja refered to them as a unity, “I always know what my enemies are thinking. I'm even more cautious with those who claim to be my allies. The fact is that he was joining forces with Wessex to overthrow me. Do you think they would show mercy to you and our children?” Ivar was raising his eyebrows questionably.

 

“No. They wouldn't.” she looked down and Ivar touched her chin again. This time Blaeja allowed him to move her face to him. 

 

“It would destroy me if something happened to you and our babies. You know, right? Do you remember our wedding night? When you said you would be my life?” Ivar smiled with the memories of the proud Princess that was so sure of herself.

 

Blaeja felt her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She had risked everything that night. She won and lost a lot since then. She made her choice and didn't look back until now. She was tired of the constant fight and moving; frightened that one day, Ivar would leave with his army to never get back. Ivar could see she was thinking about their journey and waited patiently until she returned his smile, “I do remember.”

 

“Good. You were right!” Ivar started caressing her belly, “I want fame, power and wealthy. I won't lie. But my motivation is to provide for our family. When he said our children were bastards I wanted to kill him right away…” he pressed his lips together and Blaeja cupped his face, making Ivar look at her, “But when he called you…” Ivar pulled out from her touch and Blaeja noticed a vein in Ivar's neck pulsing. 

 

“What did he call me?” she questioned him.

 

“Hmm? It doesn't matter…” she knew he was trying to change the subject.

 

“Tell me, Ivar. His words can't do anything now.” Blaeja reached out her hand to caress his beard.

 

“I know you will be upset. I don't want this affecting you. Especially because you're with child.” He held her closer to his chest and kissed her hair. 

 

“Well… since he called our children bastards, I suppose he called me prostitute? Am I right, husband?” Ivar's fingers started running through her hair trying to make her sleep.

 

She noticed the change in his breathing and looked at him to discover if she was right in her presumption, “Am I right, Ivar? You reacted that way… using his body as a target for arrows because he offended me?”

 

“I…” Ivar didn't know what to do to distract her.

 

“Don't worry, my love.” Ivar knew she wanted to appear strong, but the fact they hadn't married with the blessing of her God was something that clouded her mind.

 

“I know it hurts you. I'm sorry… my men would leave me if we were married in your Church. Our children wouldn't be accepted as my heirs…” his big hands were delicately caressing her belly.

 

“I accepted my fate. I took the risk when I stayed behind to greet your brothers and you. You could have me raped, enslaved, killed…” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. 

 

“That's why I didn't want to talk about this.” His calloused thumb was wiping away her tears.

 

She smiled closing her eyes, “I know you thought about every one of those terrible fates. I don't blame you. I was your enemy. The daughter of a man you despised.” Blaeja took his hand and started kissing his knuckles.

 

“Let's sleep! It's been a tiring night and you must gather all your strength for the little one will soon be here.” Ivar leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

 

“You saw that we could be happy, and you gave me everything I thought I would never have after my father's death. It's not easy to love you, to be yours…but it's worth all the fight. I can't see myself married to some boring Saxon Prince.” Blaeja chuckled and Ivar captured her lips in a heated kiss. She gladly allowed him entrance and their tongues started a dance that was familiar now. 

 

His hand traveled to her neck, arms, waist, and he made her jump when he grabbed her ass. She didn't need to open her eyes to know he was smirking. Ivar held her thigh against his waist and Blaeja moaned feeling his hardness against her heated core.

 

“Faðir?” Sigtrygg was sitting and rubbing his eyes. Blaeja tried to hide her face in Ivar's chest.

 

Ivar sighed, “Time to sleep, son.”

 

“But… Faðir … I want to hear how Thor dressed as woman.” Sigtrygg tried to convince Ivar.

 

“Tomorrow night. Your mother is tired.” Ivar was surprised Blaeja was not talking and noticed she was sleeping holding on his tunic, “The duty of a man is to look after his family. We must take care of your mother and sister. They need to rest.” Ivar kissed Blaeja’s temple.

 

“Sister? You say it’s a brother!” Sigtrygg was pouting.

 

Ivar started messing with his hair, “I say, but only when your mother is awake.” Ivar laughed and Sigtrygg’s lips formed an ‘O’.

 

“You like to provoke her. Why?” Sigtrygg was furrowing his eyebrows.

 

“One day you'll understand.” Ivar smiled watching Sigtrygg yawning and succumbing to sleep. His entire world was sheltered in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Edmund appears in my other fic about Blaeja: The Saxon Rose and The Ouroboros. He made a deal with Ragnarssons to provide horses if his kingdom was spared from their wrath. I'm picturing him a little differently as I'm writing from his enemy's perspective.
> 
>  
> 
> [Edmund the Martyr](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edmund_the_Martyr)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Edmund is first mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle annal for 870, which was compiled twenty years after his death. By tradition, Edmund is thought to have been born in 841 and to have acceded to the East Anglian throne in around 855. Nothing is known of his life or reign, as no contemporary East Anglian documents from this period have survived. The devastation in East Anglia that was caused by the Vikings destroyed any books or charters that may have referred to Edmund and a lack of contemporary evidence means that it is not known for certain when his reign began, or his age when he became king. Later medieval chroniclers have provided dubious accounts of his life, in the absence of any real details. The most credible theory for Edmund’s parentage suggests Ealhhere, brother-in-law to King Æthelstan of Kent, as Edmund’s father and Edith (Æthelstan’s sister) as Edmund’s mother
> 
>  
> 
> In 869, the Great Heathen Army advanced on East Anglia and killed Edmund. He may have been slain by the Danes in battle, but by tradition he met his death at an unidentified place known as Haegelisdun, after he refused the Danes' demand that he renounce Christ: the Danes beat him, shot him with arrows and then beheaded him, on the orders of Ivar the Boneless and his brother Ubba.


End file.
